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MEMOIRS 



EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 



BY 

LOUISA STUART COSTELLO, 

AUTHOR OF 

'SPECIMENS OJT THE EARLY POETRY OP PRAKCE," " A SUMMER AMONGST THE SOCAGES 

AND THE VINES," " A PILGRIMAGE TO AUVERGNE," "THE QUEEN MOTHER," 

ETC. ETC. ETC. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 
VOL. I. 



LONDON: 

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 

9u!iie0i^er in uminati to fl^et fiSU^it^tp* 

1844. 



DA 



LONDON: 
R. CLAT, PRINTER BREAD STREET HILL. 



^ 






4v. 



CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 



PAGE 

Introduction 

Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury 9 

Arabella Stuart 197 

Catherine Grey 322 

Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke 334 

Penelope, Lady Rich .- 370 

Magdalen Herbert . 380 

-^ Frances Howard, Duchess of Richmond 403 



LIST OF PORTRAITS. 

Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury . . , to face Title, 

Mary Stuart, Queen op Scots to face p. 164 

Arabella Stuart 199 

Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke 334 

Frances, Duchess op Richmond and Lenox 403 



INTRODUCTION. 



It is scarcely possible to give the Biography of 
the Females of England who have been remarkable 
in their time, with any hope of accuracy, tiU the 
sixteenth centmy. 

The accounts, before that period, respecting them, 
are so meagre and uncertain, that imagination must 
supply much of the void left by historians; and, 
though just enough is said to excite curiosity and 
interest, there is nothing to furnish a narrative of 
their proceedings such as might be depended on, 
and be really valuable as a record of their Hves. 

I have begun this collection at the reign of 
Ehzabeth, because, with all her great quaUties, she 
stands out, both in her own and in all succeeding 
ages, as one of the most prominent personages of 
England and of Europe; and because the existence of 

VOL. I. B 



11 INTRODUCTION. 

powerful talent and superior intellect in her seems 
to have raised her sex in esteem from the period at 
which she flourished. 

It appears to have been thought worth while to 
bestow some attention on women, after the glory 
of her avatar had given them dignity and im- 
portance from henceforth in the scale of society; 
and the long duty of paying deference to a female 
grew at length into a habit, which her own merit, 
once properly acknowledged, did not allow to 
decline. 

The position thus acquired could not be again 
lost, and woman no longer occupied a mean station 
in the social state. 

In some cases it is not to be denied that females, 
thus exalted into consequence, exulted and tri- 
umphed too far ; and, as in the instance of Bess of 
Hardwick, rendered themselves more conspicuous 
than admired; but their characters, whether for 
good or bad, were developed, and a field was now 
afforded them wherein to display whatever energies 
they possessed. 

it is true that, like all great events, this had been 
for some time preparing ; and, occasionally, a female 
character had started forth which could not fail to 



INTRODUCTION. iii 

draw the world's attention. In the records of 
chivalry, women play a prominent part, and are 
named aa the ultimate reward or rewarders of 
valour; but they axe honoured as a body, and 
their individual merits rarely recounted, while little 
is positively known of their domestic habits. 

The time when Queen Mary occupied the throne 
is a gloomy and melancholy period, and we do not 
love to recur to her as our first female sovereign ; 
indeed, as her sway was in a great measure directed 
and dictated by her husband, we cannot look upon 
her as an independent Queen : nor were her talents 
such as to enable her to act for herself, hke the 
woman of wonderful and mascuUne spirit who 
succeeded her, and for so many years presided over 
the destiny of our nation, and regulated, in a great 
degree, the conduct of all the States of Europe. 

It would almost seem that Elizabeth had no femi- 
nine weakness but one-r-her inordinate vanity ; but, 
although apt to be influenced by it in small matters, 
her overpowering sense got the better even of that 
besetting sin when great events required her to act. 
When all her grandeur of intellect, her promptness, 
wisdom, and resolution, are considered, this blemish 
on her manly qualities ought to be looked upon with 

B 2 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

indulgence, if it does not altogether redeem her 
reputation, for it was the o\Ay female trait she allowed 
to appear. Tenderness, softness, pity, and forgive- 
ness, were unknown to her mind, and, but for her 
vanity, she would have been scarcely woman or 
human. 

But what is to be said of her successor, who had all 
her female weakness more odiously exhibited, and 
no quality but cimning to make him remarkable ? 

In all that was harsh and cruel, jealous and sus- 
picious, in tenacity of his claim to the crown, in in- 
veteracy and tyranny, he followed closely the foot- 
steps of Elizabeth, but in all the rest of his folKes 
and vices he was entirely original. 

The change was very great when James came to 
the throne, and deeply shocked were many of those 
accustomed to the somewhat overstrained elegance 
and romantic gallantry of the female court. The 
letters of some of the old courtiers on the subject of 
the strange manners introduced, would be amusing, 
but for the disgusting impression necessarily formed 
of the actors iji scenes such as would disgrace a 
country wake : lords and ladies of rank, for instance, 
rolhng about in intoxication at the foot of the throne, 
while the reeling sovereign is carried off to his couch 



INTRODUCTION. V 

amongst the tipsy uproar of this rabble rout of 
favourites who surrounded him. 

Anne of Denmark, alone, of those attached to the 
new court, seemed to bear herself with courtesy, and 
keep up any semblance of propriety, as Arabella 
Stuart relates in one of her indignant letters to her 
uncle. Although there was not much in her cha- 
racter to challenge respect or admiration, yet the 
deferential feeling which had so long prevailed, was 
extended to her and her ladies, and, in spite of all 
the coarseness of the King, and the contumely which 
he loved to heap on his female subjects, they no 
longer required patronage to give them countenance. 

The lovely EUzabeth, afterwards Queen of Bohe- 
mia, and the young beauties who surrounded her, 
made amends, by their attractions, for the awkward 
vulgarity of King James ; and the grace and majesty 
of the youthful Prince Henry induced similar man- 
ners amongst his followers. 

Although her character can never be popular with 
her sex, still Englishwomen are indebted to Queen 
Ehzabeth's best quahties for a new era in their ex- 
istence, and though she, herself, showed no more 
preference for them than did her ungallant successor, 
still she had involuntarily bestowed great benefits on 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

her fellow females by proving of what importance 
they could be. 

Just at her time, the education of women had 
altogether taken a diflferent turn ; and, though the 
accompUshment of the needle was still appreciated 
and admired, yet the mind was not allowed to lie 
fallow while acres of tapestry and carpet-work were 
carefully cultivated. The first advance from igno- 
rance to erudition, seemed to over-leap all between, 
and women became, from mere embroidresses, arrant 
pedants, vying with the learned in classical and ab- 
struse knowledge. Some amongst these were really 
as highly instructed as it was the custom to endeavour 
to appear : as, for instance, the daughters of Sir 
Thomas More, and Sir Anthony Coke, Lady Jane 
Grey, and a few others. 

Ehzabeth herself remained a pedant, but most 
of the ladies of her time excelled in the pleasing 
accomphshments she also affected. Perhaps the 
superiority in many of these charming acquirements 
of the ill-fated Mary Stuart, was not the least of 
h^ crimes in the eyes of her envious rival. 

I have not, in this collection, confined myself to 
the biographies of women celebrated for their 
literary attainments, or, in fact, to femates of any 



INTRODUCTION. vii 

class, but have recorded all I could find that was 
interesting of them, as they passed along the magic 
glass of recollection, starting fix)m the point I have 
named, for the reasons I have given. 

It appeared useful and interesting to me to bring 
together a great many female characters; with 
whom to become acquainted, it was necessary to 
seek, in works not always accessible, for particulars 
scattered here and there. 

I have not, as far as I could accomplish my wish, 
neglected any source likely to afford authentic 
accounts of each of those whose biography I have 
attempted to write ; and I have every reason to 
hope that what is contained in these pages may be 
relied on. 

Elizabeth of Hardwick, — ^that managing and 
clever woman, who by the charms of her person, 
manners, and spirit, contrived to accomplish her 
mm will so effectually, — ^is the first lady I have 
introduced to the notice of the reader : her history 
is an epitome of the times in which she lived ; and 
the letters and conversations which relate to her, 
bring the days of Queen Elizabeth clearly before 
our eyes, in the most minute manner possible; 
while the monument of her magnificence, still 



Vm INTRODUCTION. 

existing entire, in her fax-famed mansion of Hard- 
wick Hall, transports those who have become 
familiar with its foundress back to her society, and 
that of her unfortunate granddaughter, Arabella 
Stuart. 

For permission to publish the Portraits of both 
these ladies, together with one of the ill-fated 
Mary Stuart, all hitherto unengraved, I am indebted 
to the extreme kindness of his Grace the Duke of 
Devonshire, who, with the utmost liberality and 
courtesy, allowed me to copy them from his 
galleries; and who, further, gave me access to 
manuscripts and books in his possession, without 
which I could not have hoped to render these 
Memoirs valuable. The other Portraits are from 
the best authorities. 



Chatsworth Park, 
Aiiguity 1843. 



MEMOIRS 



EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 



ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 

Connected, from circumstances, for many years, 
with the fortunes of one of the most interesting 
female characters in history, the Countess of Shrews- 
bury, whose fourth husband was jailor to the ill- 
fated Queen of Scotland, derives, from that circum- 
stance alone, a claim to universal attention. Even, 
however, without this, Elizabeth Hardwick is a 
personage so singular in herself, and so remarkable 
from the influence she exercised over every character 
that came within her reach, that, except the great 
Queen, her namesake and contemporary, there is 
scarcely any that can compare with her for bold- 
ness, determination, resolute will, love of sway, and, 
above aU, for a talent to accomphsh every design 
which her ambition framed. 



10 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

K the existence of feminine qualities is necessary 
to render a woman an object of sympathy, she 
would have Uttle claim on her sex's notice ; for 
there is no evidence to prove that the beauties of 
her mind were equal to those of her person and 
manners ; on the contrary, ahnost all that is known 
of her, during the long period of her existence, 
exhibits her as daring, mascuhne, forbidding and 
selfish. Nevertheless, she contrived to fascinate so 
many persons, including even Queen Elizabeth her- 
self, that she must have had at least the appearance 
of something good and worthy of admiration. She 
might have been hberal and generous to her depen- 
dants, doubtless was princely and magnificent to 
her equals and superiors, and probably possessed 
eloquence and agreeable conversation, Uvehness, and 
animation. This the portraits remaining of her seem 
to prove, and much, expressive of these attributes, 
may be traced in those wliich enrich the galleries at 
Hardwick Hall, inDerbyshire, the great theatre where 
many scenes of her life were played. She is 
represented as very fair, with one of those delicate 
complexions through whose transparency the violet 
veins gleam beneath the skin in tender waving 
threads, giving a peculiarly beautiful tint to the 
forehead and eyelids ; the hair was probably flaxen, 
but it was so much the custom for ladies at that 
period to wear head-dresses of different-coloured 
hair, twisted into " twenty odd-conceited true-love 
knots," that it is always difficult, if not impossible, 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 11 

to pronounce on the fact. Her eyes were hazel, 
with a deep tinge of blue, which must have, in life, 
caused their hue to vary with the hght ; they are, 
even in painting, sparkling, shrewd, and quick, but 
n'o tenderness can be detected there, as in the 
" yeux verds " of the lovely Mary Stuart, her sup- 
posed rival. Her nose is long, and somewhat 
drooping, by no means classical in form, but not 
positively displeasing ; her upper Up is rather flat, 
and her mouth is very characteristic — ^thin Kps, 
bright, like a scarlet thread) compressed and irre- 
gular in shape, no doubt indicative of her temper, 
for it seems to teU of irritabihty, obstinacy, deter- 
mination, caution, and care ; the chin is somewhat 
pointed ; the contour of the cheeks good ; the fore- 
head high and sensible, of an open character, and 
handsome. Her figure must have been shght and 
graceful, and of middle height ; and her hands are 
dehcate, with taper fingers ; but it seemed the 
fashion of that period for every painter to bestow 
on his sitter the fair hands which, probably, as her 
only beauty, belonged to the maiden Queen ; there- 
.fore this particular cannot be altogether relied on. 
In one of the pictures at Hardwick she wears a black 
dress, buttoned fix)m the peak of the stomacher to 
the throat, a small rufF, with cuffs of the same kind, 
a black cap and veil, and no ornament but an enor- 
mous rope of pearls, of five or six rows, which 
hangs below her waist. This seems to have de- 
scended to her daughter, Mary, for, in her portrait 



12 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

she appears wearing what may be the identical valu- 
able string, worth a king's ransom. 

EUzabeth was one of the (laughters of John 
Hardwick, of Hardwick, a gentleman of ancient 
family in Derbyshire ; who married Elizabeth, 
daughter of Thomas Leake, of Harland, in the same 
county ; and, on the death of her brother, she ulti- 
mately became sole heiress of the estates of her family. 
When she was only fourteen, with the reputation of 
great beauty and sprightliness, fortune so willed it 
that she should pay a visit to a connexion — ^the Lady 
Zouch — ^in London, who had with her at the time 
a young gentleman of very large property, named 
Robert, or Alexander, Barlow, or Barley, one of the 
most desirable matches in the county; and as he 
was a neighbour of the fair daughter of Hardwick, 
it was easy for them to form an acquaintance. 

Mr. Barlow was suffering from a chronic disease, 
which confined him to his chamber ; and how could 
he be otherwise than sensible to the tender sympa- 
thies and benevolent attention which his young and 
lovely friend so cheerfully bestowed on him? She 
seemed never weary of his sick room, exerted her- 
self to entertain him, was always cheerful and 
agreeable, and evidently deeply commiserated his 
situation; for she took upon herself entirely the 
care of nursing him, ordered his diet, administered 
his medicines, and soothed him with her tender 
assiduities. As his health improved, his heart 
became more and more touched, and he found that 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 13 

health, or life itself, would be nothing worth to him 
if his charming neighbour refused still to bestow 
her society on him. Little persuasion was neces- 
sary to effect this. Indeed, it is possible that the 
fair calculator of fourteen had already foreseen the 
result of her kind attentions to the interesting in- 
valid, who, before she became his wife, to prove to 
her how exclusively he was attached, made a will, 
in which he secured to her and her heirs almost the 
whole of his great estates. The recovery to which 
he looked forward never seemed to have added to 
his happiness ; and, in a very brief space after he 
became the husband of Ehzabeth, the young and 
devoted Barlow died, leaving the object of his adora- 
tion a fair, youthful, and wealthy widow.* 

This occurred in the year 1532, or thereabouts ; 
and, on his demise, she probably returned to her 
family, and their neighbourhood, and remained for 
some time, though not unsought, unwed, till the 
affections, which she might have feigned for the 
sick youth whom she fascinated, were given to one 
whom she seems really to have loved — ^to judge by 
the exertions she never ceased to make for the 
advantage of his family, to the end of her life. 
This was Sir WiUiam Cavendish, a man of consi- 
derable property and consequence, whose estates 
lay principally in Suffolk, but who eventually 

• History of George, Earl of Shrewsbury. MS. in the posses- 
sion of His Grace the Duke of Devonshire, by Nathaniel John- 
ston, M.D. 



14 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

settled in Derbyshire, in accordance with his wife's 
desire. 

William Cavendish was one of the commissioners, 
appointed in 1530, for the suppression of monas- 
teries; and, in 1539, the seals of the monastery of 
Sheen, and those of the Abbey of St. Albans, were 
presented to him. He was the same year consti- 
tuted an auditor of the court of augmentation, 
honoured with knighthood, and enriched with many 
grants. He was a widower for the third time, when 
he attracted the attention of the fair Elizabeth Bar- 
low; and he appears to have returned her affec- 
tion with interest, denying nothing to her wishes, 
and anticipating her desires. In order to meet her 
views, he sold his estates in the southern parts of 
England, and purchased lands in her native county ; 
and, entering at once into her pleasures and occu- 
pations, he began, by her wish, a mansion — ^since 
one of the most magnificent and celebrated in the 
kingdom — on which a very mine of wealth has been 
spent at different times, and all the resources of 
taste, genius, and energy, have been lavished to 
make it the grandest specimen of Uberahty, splen- 
dour, and beauty, existing in England. William 
Cavendish, and his lady, began the building of 
Chatsworth, which it required several centuries to 
bring to the perfection now so remarkable, and 
which, at the present day, renders it the wonder of 
the country it adorns. 

Amongst several letters which passed between the 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 15 

energetic Elizabeth and her dependants at this time, 
the following, in which I have preserved the original 
spelling, as an amusing specimen, is characteristic, 
and proves with what interest she watched the pro- 
gress of her favourite pursuit of building. Whether, 
at this period, the prophecy had already gone forth, 
which tradition has preserved, that she should not 
die while she continued to build, does not appear, 
but certain it is that her great passion seemed to 
be to erect vast mansions in every part of her large 
estates, as Chatsworth, Hardwick, Oldcotes, and 
others, prove. 



LETTER FROM LADY CAVENDISH TO FRANCIS 
WHITFIELD. 1552.* 

"Francys. I have spoken with y' mayster for the 
dyltes or hordes that you wrote to me of; and he is 
contente that you shall take some for your nesecyte 
by the apointment of Neusante, so that you take 
seche as wyll do hyme no sarvese about hys byldinge 
at Chattysworthe. I pray you loke well to all thynges 
at Chattysworthe tyU my aunte's comynge whome, 
which I hope shall be shortly ; and in the meane 
tyme cause Broushawe to loke to the smethes and 
all thjmges at Penteryge. Lete the weivar make 
here for me fourthew* for my owne drynkinge and 
your mayster, and see that I have good store of ytt, 

• From History of Sheffield (Hunter's), 1819. 



16 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

for yff I lacke either good here, * or charcole, or wode, 
I wyll blame nobody so meche as I wyll do you. 
Cause the flore yn my bed chamber to be made even 
ether w^^ plaster, claye, or lyme ;t and al the wyn- 
dowes were the glasse is broken to be mended ; and 
al the chambers to be made as close aiid warme as 
you cane. I here that my sister JaneJ cane not 
have thynges that yr nedefoulle for hare to have 
amoungst you ; yf ytt be trewe, you lacke a great 
(deal) of honyste as well as dyscretion to deny hare 
any th3nige that she hathe a mynde to, beynge in 
case as she hathe bean, I wolde be lothe to have 
any stranger so yoused in my howse ; and then assure 
yourselfe I can not lyke ytt to have my sister so 
yousede. Lyke as I wolde not have any superfleuet^ 
or waste of any thinge, so lyke wyse wolde I have 
hare to have that wyche is needfoulle and nesesary. 
At my comyngewhome I shall know more, and then 
I wyll thy'k as I shall have cause. I wolde have you 
to gyve to my mydwyffe frome me and frome my 
boye Wylle,^ and to my norse frome me 

and my boye, as hereafter followeth : Fyrst, to the 
mydwyfe frome me tene shylhnges, and frome Wylle 
five shilljrnges ; to the norse from em fyve shilhngs, 

* Good beer seems to have rendered Derbyshire celebrated at 
all times, as well as Nottinghamshire. 

t It seems that floors and staircases in this county were made 
of plaster, from a very early period ; the material used is the 
newer magnesian, or conglomerate limestone. 

J Jane Hardwick, afterwards wife of Godfrey Bosvill, of Gun- 
thwaite, Esq. 

§ William, her favourite son, afterwards Earl of Devonshire. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 17 

and from my boye 3'* fore pence, so that yn 
the wolle you mouste geve to them twenty-three 
shyllynges and four pence. Make my syster Jane 
prevye of ytt, and then paye it to them fourthew*. 
Yf you have no other money, take so meche of the 
rente of Penterydge. Tyll. my sister Jane that I 
will give my dowter somethynge at my comynge 
whome; and prayinge you not to fayle to se all thynges 
done accordyngly, I bede you farewell. Prom Lon- 
don, the 14 Nov. 

Y' mystrys, 

Elizabethe Cavendysh. 

" Tyll James Crompe that I have resavyed the five 
ponde and 9'* that he sent me by Heue Alsope. 

To my servante Frances Wytfeld, geve this at 
Chattymoorthy 



These domestic particulars are not a Uttle enter- 
taining : they show at once the manners and habits 
of the times ; how a lady of rank busied herself with 
her household afPairs, looked to every minute article : 
saw to the brewing, baking, and carpenter's work, 
and inquired closely into the payments of her house- 
keeping.* 

At Hardwick Hall are still preserved many papers 
of household expenses, being accounts kept by her 

* Shakespeare gave but a picture of the manners of his day in 
making Old Capulet say to his wife, << Look to the baked meats, 
good Angelica.'* It is true the scene is in Verona, but nature is 
the same everywhere ; and manners did not much differ. 

VOL. I. C 



18 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

steward, revised by herself, and signed, on almost 
every page, with her own hand, when Countess of 
Shrewsbury. 

What house she alluded to in this letter is not 
quite clear. She speaks of Pentridge, which was 
near Wingfield Manor, which at that period did not 
belong to her : it is likely that she means old Hard- 
wick Hall, which she nearly rebuilt before. Many 
years afterwards she began the erection of the 
present Hall. 

Sir William Cavendish did not live to see the 
finishing of the splendid mansion he had begim with 
so much spirit ; death overtook him in the midst of 
his career, and left his beloved Elizabeth to continue 
her labours alone. 

She was left with a large family, for whom she 
seemed to entertain the most unbounded affection, 
transferring to them the regard she had felt for the 
husband of her choice : the sons were — 

1. Henry, who died without issue. 

2. Wilham, who became first Earl of Devonshire. 

3. Sir Charles Cavendish, ancestor of the Dukes 
of Newcastle : the daughters — 

1. Prances, who married Sir Henry Pierrepoint, 
ancestor of the Dukes of Kingston. 

2. Elizabeth, married to Charles Stuart, Duke of 
Lennox, brother of Damley, who became father of 
the unfortunate Arabella Stuart, the victim of state 
poUcy. 

3. Mary, who inherited more than her mother's 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUET. 19 

violence and ambition, and was married to Gilbert, a 
son of Elizabeth's fourth husband, and thus arrived 
at the same dignity of Countess of Shrewsbury. 

With her six children, a splendid fortune, and 
unimpaired beauty, the attractive widow retained 
her Uberty some time, till at length she was pre- 
vailed upon to change her state again, ia favour of 
Sir William St.Lo, of Tormarton, in Gloucestershire, 
Captain of the Guard to Queen Ehzabeth, and Grand 
Butler of England. To judge by his portrait, pre- 
served at Hardwick, Sir William was a " fine gay 
bold-rfaced" soldier, full of spirit, and not a mere 
carpet knight: there is Uttle of the grace of the 
courtier about him, but something more of the 
" rude and boisterous captain." 

He was wealthy, and had broad lands in Glou- 
cestershire ; and these circumstances weighed with the 
acute widow and careful mother, who determined, 
before she ventured to alter her position, to secure, 
as much as possible, of his possessions to herself and 
the children of her. favourite husband, Cavendish. 

The Captain was but a child in her hands — a 
mere bird, which, with a sUk thread, she could pluck 
backward or forwards at will ; and when she inti- 
mated to him that she could not — ^would not — durst 
not become Lady St. Lo, unless his love directed 
him to settle the whole of his fortune on her and 
her heirs, in default of any which their marriage 
might produce to him ; he had no arguments to offer 
in favour of his family by a former marriage. 

c 2 



20 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Much to her exultation, and the consternation of 
his daughters and aD his relations, the fascinated 
Captain of the Guard agreed to all she required, and 
accordingly became the husband of the irresistible 
widow, for whom his attachment seems to have been 
unbounded. However annoyed his family may have 
had reason to be at the distribution he made of his 
property, they all seemed to have considered it the 
best policy to keep on good terms with the new wife; 
and, on her side, she was ready to receive them all 
with friendhness and attention, identifying herself 
with his children, and brothers, and cousins, in the 
most exemplary manner possible ; for, having gained 
her point, she had no cause of quarrel with them, as 
long as they behaved with courtesy toward her. 
Indeed, at this period of her life, there is reason to 
believe that she was very agreeable, and that her cue 
was to gain 

" Golden opinions from all sorts of men." 
She comes forth, surrounded by her own and her 
new husband's relations, apparently Kving in the 
utmost harmony and happiness ; at least so it 
seemed to the Captain, who grudged every hour 
passed out of her society. It might well be that 
Queen Elizabeth saw, as usual, with a jealous eye, 
the attachment of one of her officers to another, for 
she evidently kept him as much as possible from his 
fair and fondly-loved wife. His regrets on these 
occasions are entertaining, and show the feeUng of 
his mind towards her he was forced to leave behind. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 21 

His letters also continue the picture of the manners 
of the time, and the domestic arrangements of a 
courtier of Queen Elizabeth's age. 



SIR WILLIAM ST. LOE TO LADT ST. LOE.* 

" My own more dearer to me than I am to 
myself, thou shalt understand that it is no small 
fear nor grief unto me of thy well doing, then I 
schowlde presently see what I dowgst (?) not only 
for that my continual nightly dreams byside my 
absence hath troubled me, but also chiefly for that 
Hugh Alsope cannot certify me in what estate thou 
nor thine is whom I tender more than I do WiUiam 
Seyntlo. Therefore I pray thee as thou doth love 
me let me shortly heare from thee for the quieting 
of my imquieted mind, how thy own sweet self 
with all thine doeth, trusting shortly to be amongst 
you. All thy friends here saluteth thee. Harry 
Skipwith desired me to make thee and no other 
privy that he is sure of Mistress Neyll with whom 
he is by this time. He hath sent ten thousand 
thanks unto thyself for the same, she hath opened 
all things unto him. 

" To-morrow Sir Richard Sackville and I ride to 
London together, upon Saturday next we return 



• In this letter I have also preserved the original spelling, as 
more amusing and curious ; where the matter is of more import, 
I have thought it as well to adopt more modern orthography, as 
easier to read. 



22 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

hither again. The Queen yesterday her own self 
riding upon the way, craved my horse ; unto whom 
I gave him, receiving openly for the same many 
goodly words. Thus wishing myself with thyseK I 
bid thee, my own good servant and chief overseer 
of my works, most heartily farewell ; by thine who 
is wholly and only thine, yea and for all thine while 
life lasteth. From Windsor, the 4th September, 
by thy right worshipful good master and most 
honest husband, master Syr 

Wylliam Seyntlo esquyer. 

" CJomende me to my mother and to all my brothers 
and sisters there, not forgetting Frank with the rest 
of my children and thine. The Amnar saluteth 
thee and sayeth no gentleman's children in England 
shall be better welcome nor better looked after than 
our boys. Once again, farewell, good honest sweet. 
Myself or Gi;eyves shall be the next messenger. 

To my ovm dear wife at Chatsworth, deliver this. " 



The next letter shows some thrift on the part of 
Captain St. Lo, more than officers of the Court are 
usually in the habit of exhibiting. It moreover 
proves, that the custom existed then, as at the present 
day, of hiring fine clothes in which to appear at 
Court, and on grand occasions. This custom may 
perhaps account for dresses of an early period 
descending to late times almost in their original 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 23 

state of newness. Tailors and dress-makers, no 
doubt, made up splendid dresses with a view of 
letting them out on hire; and, as some speculations 
of this sort must have failed, the costumes remained 
uninjured ; and serve, at this distant date, to give 
an idea of the splendour of a former age. When 
we observe the costliness of some of the dresses, 
both male and female, of the time of Elizabeth 
and her successors, it seems impossible that half 
the noblemen who appeared in such, could afford to 
purchase them. Sir Wilham St. Lo's letter lets us 
into the secret of the arrangements of many of the 
inferior courtiers. 

Queen Elizabeth's policy was evidently to keep 
her courtiers as poor as possible ; thus her captain 
of the guard is obhged to provide for himself and 
his train, not only accoutrements, but household 
linen, when in attendance at Whitehall. 

Gentlemen of that day attended to the economy 
of the stable, and expected their wives to super- 
intend everything with great vigilance, as his recom- 
mendation to his lady about the quantity of oats to 
be consumed proves. 



SIR WILLIAM ST. LOE TO HIS WIFE. 

** My honest sweet Chatesworth, I Uke the weekly 
price of my hired court stuff so evil, that upon Thurs- 
day next I will send it home again, at which day 
the week endeth. I pray you cause such stuff as 



24 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN, 

Mowsall left packed in a sheet to be brought hither 
by the next carrier. There be hand-towels and other 
things therein that I must occupy when I he at 
Whitehall. My men hath neither schurtt (shirt) nor 
any other thing to shift them until that come. Trust 
none of your men to ride any your housed horses but 
only James Cromp or WiQiam Marchington, but 
neither of them without good cause serve speedily to 
be done. For nags, there be enough about the 
house to serve other purposes. One handful of oats 
to every one of the geldings, at a watering, will be 
sufficient, so they be not laboured. You must cause 
some to oversee the horse-keeper, for that he is very 
well learned in loitering. 

" The Queen hath found great fault with my long 
absence, saying that she would talk with me farther, 
and that she would well chide me. Whereunto I 
answered, that when her highness understood the 
truth and the cause, she would not be oflTended. 
Whereunto she says, ' Very well, very well ;' how- 
beit, hand of her's did I not kisse. 

" The Lord Keeper hath promised me faithfully 
to be at both days' hearing ; and that if either law 
or conscience be on my side I shall have it to my 
contentation. * Vaughan is come into town, but 
not yet Bagot. Stevyns and we shall go through 
on Friday next, at which time his brother will be 
here, who hath disbursed 700 of the 1200 pounds. 
I have had extreme pain in my teeth sithens Sunday 

* He alludes to a law-suit pending. 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 25 

at dinner : thus, with aching teeth I end, praying 
the lyveng to preserve thee and all thine. Written 
at London, against my will, where I am, if other 
ways our matters might well be ended, this 14 Oct. 
Your loving husband with aching heart until we 
meet, W. St. Loe. 

" If you think good, lease your fishing in Dove 
unto Agard. We are the losers by suffering it as 
we have done. 

To my loving wife at CAatsworth; give these 
with speed,'' 



SIR W. ST. LOE TO HIS WIFE. 

" My hap is evil, my time worse spent, for that 
my reward as yet is nothing more than fair words 
with like promises. 

" Take all in good part, and if I should under- 
stand the contrary it would trouble me more than 
my pen could express. 

" I have leave to come and wait upon thee, I 
and my brother Clement with two or three good 
fellows more, had been with thee by this days, had 
it not been for our checkar matter, the which I will 
not leave over rawly. I will forbear the answering 
of all particularities in thy last letter written unto 
me, for that, God willing, I will this next week be 
the messenger myself. Master Man came home the 
night before the date hereof; he putteth me in great 
hope of the matter you wot of. Thus, trusting that 



36 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

God provideth for us all things for the best, I end, 
committing thee and all thine, which are mine, unto 
his blessed will and ordinance. Farewell, my own 
sweet Bess. Prom Mister Man's house in Bedcross 
Street, the 12 of Oct'', by him who dareth not, so 
near his coining home, to term thee as thou art, yet 
thine, 

William Seyntlo. 

" My cousin Clerk saluteth thee who was by me 
at the writing hereof. 

To my own good wife at Chatsworth deliver this'' 



The tedious absences of the Captain from his dear 
wife were soon to be eternal, for he died after they 
had been married but a short space ; and Elizabeth, 
for the third time, was a widow with a fortune con- 
siderably increased, and no heirs of St. Lo to take 
anything from her family of Cavendish. 

During her widowhood, she seems to have fallen 
under the suspicion of Queen Elizabeth, as having 
been privy to the marriage of Lady Catherine Grey 
with Lord Hertford, and was sent for and examined 
strictly on the subject. 

Fond as she was of plots and schemes, it is 
more than probable that she had some hand m the 
affair; but she was fortunate enough to escape 
without punishment, being subjected only to a few 
days' detention and catechizing.* 

• See Life of Catherine Grey. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUEY. 27 

The following letter will show how she occupied 
her thoughts with rural and architectural pursuits. 
The tone of it shows the character of her mind, 
and with what energy she looked after all her own 
affairs. 



LADY ST. LOE TO JAMES CROMPE. 

"Crompe. — I do understande by your leters 
that Worth sayth he wyll departe at our Lade-day 
next. I wyll that you shall have hym bunden yn 
an oblygacyon to avoyde at the same day, for sure 
I will truste no more to hys promes. And were 
he doth tell you that he ys any peny behind for 
work done to Mr. Cavendyshe or one, he doth lye 
lyke a false knave, for I am moste sure he did never 
.make any thinge for me but ii (2) vaynes to stande 
upon the huse. 

" I do very well lyke yo' sendinge sawyers to 
Pentrege and Medoplike, for that will fiu-der my 
workes, and so I praye you yn any other thynges 
that will be a helpe to my byldeynge, let it be 
don. And for Tomas Mason, yf you can here 
were he ys, I would very gladly he were at 
Chattesworth. I wyl let you know by my next 
leters what worke Thomas Mason shall begine one 
furst when he doth come. And as for the other 
mason wyche Sur James towld you of, yf he wyl 
not applye his worke, you know he is no mete mane 
for me ; and the mason's worke wyche I have to do 



28 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

ys not muche, and Tomas Mason will very weU 
over se that work. T perseve Sur James * ys 
muche myslyked for Jiys relegyn : hut I thenke hys 
wisdom ys suche that he mil make small acounte of 
thatt matter. I wolde have you to tell my aunte 
Senecker f that I wolde have the leteU garden weche 
ys by the newe house made a garden thys yere. 
I care not wether she bestow any great coste 
thereof, but to sowe yt with al kynde of earbes and 
flowres, and some pece of y* with malos, I have 
sende you by thys carerer 3 bundeles of garden 
sedes, all wreten w' Willem Marchynton's hande : 
and by the next you shall know how to youse them 
jm every pynte. Frome the Courte, the 8 of March. 

Y' maystres 

E. Seyntelo. 
To James Crompe!' 



Wealth had evidently been her object in her last 
match, and as her appetite seemed to " grow by 
what it fed on," she resolved henceforth to give the 
reins not only to her desire of gain, but to the 
ambition which had led her from step to step in her 
career till she had estabUshed herself in the pre- 
cincts of the court. She lost no opportunity of 
improving her advantage thus gained, and doubt- 

* Probably Foljambe ; this family sufffered much for their 
attachment to the Catholic faith. 

t This lady seems to have been domesticated with Lady St. 
Lo after the death of her husband. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 29 

less she and her dear friendy Lady Cobham, had 
many consultations as to the fittest object of her 
attack. It was not long before she had made her 
selection, and having once done so, it merely re- 
mained for her to exert the powers of fascination 
which had subjugated three successive husbands. 

George, Earl of Shrewsbury, was no longer a 
young man, but he was rich, of exalted rank, and 
the greatest subject of the realm; high in favour 
with the Queen, trusted beyond any other noble- 
man in her Court, known to be full of loyalty, pro- 
bity, honour and high feeling ; independent, mag- 
nificent, and powerful, and a widower, with sons 
and daughters unmarried. 

He was, therefore, just the person on whom Lady 
St. Lo might calculate as likely to realize all her 
most ambitious visions, for her cherished Caven- 
dishes might contract alliances with the Earl's chil- 
dren, as well as their mother with the Earl himself; 
and she trusted to her own good management to 
secure such a settlement as should fully satisfy their 
hopes and her desires. 

" In an evil day and an hour of woe" for him, 
George, Earl of Shrewsbury, submitted his fate 
to the guidance of the successftd and triumphant 
widow of the Queen's Captain of the Guard, and he, 
and aU he possessed, were shortly thrown at her 
feet. They were married with great pomp and 
ceremony, amidst a crowd of friends and relations 
of all parties, and the Earl considered himself the 



30 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

happiest of men, as indeed he appears to have been 
for a season. 

A magnificent jointure was settled on the bride, 
and it was agreed not only that her eldest son, 
Henry Cavendish, should espouse his daughter, 
Grace, but that her youngest daughter, Mary, should 
become the wife of his heir, Gilbert ; thus a triple 
marriage bade fair to render the union of the two 
^families indissoluble, and Talbot and Cavendish 
should in future form one house and heart. 

This appears to have been the most eventful 
period of the Earl of Shrewsbury's life, and it was 
now that he oonamitted the two great errors which 
embittered the remainder of his existence. The 
first was his permitting himself to be caught by the 
attractions of a designing woman, and yielding at once 
to her in such a manner as never afterwards to be a 
free agent ; the second was accepting, if not desir- 
ing, the honour of becoming guardian to one of the 
most dangerous prisoners that it had ever required 
the vigilance of a whole kingdom to restram. 

Mary Stuart, on the 17th May, 1568, landed in 
England, and threw herself under the protection of 
that ^^ fahe woman, her sister and her foe^ who 
never dared to meet her face to face, knowing the 
treachery of her own heart, and the deep plans she 
had devised for her own safety and the downfal of 
so dreaded a rival. 

When Queen EUzabeth decided upon placing 
Mary in the custody of the Earl of Shrewsbury, she. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 31 

no doubt, was quite confident of his fidelity and un- 
shaken integrity, and at the same time was not sorry 
to find in his lady a person of so resolute and im- 
compromising a character where her own interest 
was concerned. The Queen must have recognised 
in her subject much that resembled herself, and have 
rejoiced in the reflection that there was no danger of 
too much sympathy or commiseration in the heart 
of the selfish and clear-sighted Countess towards the 
captive committed to her charge. 

That the Earl and his wife were anxious to obtain 
the honour, which many were striving for, appears 
by letters which he wrote at this time. They ex- 
hibit also the state of his heart, and show the influ- 
ence his new wife had over his affections, at the same 
time they prove how artfully and cautiously the 
Queen was proceeding in the great business she had 
in hand. 



THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO THE COUNTESS. 
1568, 

" My dear noney (probably own^ Having received 
a letter of the 1st of December, which came in very 
good time, else had I sent one of these few remain- 
ing with me to have brought me word of your health, 
which I doubted of, for that I heard not from you 
of all this time till now which drove me in dumps, 
but now relieved again by your writing unto me. I 
thank you, sweet noney for your puddings and venison. 



32 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The puddings have I disposed in this wise : dozen 
to my Lady Cobham, and as many to my Lady 
Stuard, and imto my Lady of Leicester, and the rest 
I have reserved to myself to eat in my chamber. 
The venison is yet in London, but I have sent for it 
hither. 

" I perceive Ned Talbot hath been sick, and now 
past danger ; I thank God I have such a none that 
is so careful over me and mine. God send me soon 
home to possess my greatest joy ; if you think it is 

you, you are not deceived. 

m ^ ^ ^ 

" And for that, I Uve in hope to be with you before 
you can return answer again. You shall understand 
that this present Monday in the morning finding 
the Queen in the garden at good leisure, I gave her 
M^ thanks that she had so little regard to the cla- 
morous people of Bolsor in my absence. She de- 
clared unto me what evil speech was against me and 
my nearness (nereness) and state in house-keeping, 
and as much as was told her which she nowise be- 
lieved, with as good words as I could wish, declaring 
that ere it were long, I should well perceive she did 
so trust me as she did few. She would not tell me 
wherein, but doubt it was about the custody of the 
Scots Queen. There is private speech that Gates 
and Vaughan should make suit to have her, but this 
day I perceive it is altered. I think before Sunday, 
these matters will come to some pass that we shall 
know how long our abode shall be ; but howsoever 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 33 

it falls out, I will not fail, but be with you before 
Kyrsomas (Christmas), or else you shall come to me. 

" The plague is dispersed far abroad in London, 
so that the Queen keeps her Kyrsomas here and 
goeth not to Greenwich as it was meant. My Lady 
Cobham, your dear friend, wishes your presence 
here: she loves you well. I teU her I have the cause 
to love her best for that she wished me so well 
to speed and I did : and as the pen writes so the 
heart thinks that of all earthly joys that hath hap- 
pened unto me I thank God chief est for you ; for 
with you I have all joy and contentution of mind, and 
mthout you death is more pleasant to me than life if 
I thought I should long he from you, and therefore, 
good wife, do as I will do, hope shortly of our meet- 
ing, and farewell dear sweet none. 

" Prom Hampton Court this Monday at midnight, 
for it is every night so late before I go to my bed, 
being at play in the privy chamber at Primers, where 
I have lost almost a hundred pounds and lacked my 



Your faithful husband till death, 

G. Shrewsbury. 

" Wife, tell my daughter Maule that I am not 
pleased with her that she hath not written to me 
with her sister ; yet will I not forget her and the 
rest, and pray to God to bless them aU. 

To my wife the Countess of Shrewsbury at Tuthury 
give this,'* 

VOL. I. D 



84 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO THE COUNTESS. 

" My dear None. — ^I have rec* your letter of the 
8th December wherein appeareth your desire of my 
soon coming : what my desire is thereunto I refer 
the same to your construction. 

*' If I should so judge of time, methinks time 
longer since my coming hither without you my only 
joy than I did since I married you, such is faithful 
affection which I never tasted so deeply of before. 
This day or to-morrow we shall know great likeU- 
hoods of our despatch. I thinke it will be Kyrsomas 
even before I will arrive at Tutbury. Thingea fall 
out very evil against the Scotch Queen, What she 
shall do yet is not resolved of. 

" As it chances I am glad that I am here, for if 
I were not I were hke to have most part of my 
leases granted over my head, there is such suit for 
leases in reversion of the Duchy. 

*' My park that I have in reversion called Morley 
Park is graunted in reversion for 30 years wherein 
I have made some stir * * * there was never such 
atyfeing and prancing for leses in reversion as be 
now at this present. * # * 

" Your black man is in health. 

Your faithful husband tiU my end, 

G. Shrewsbury. 

" From the Court this Monday 13th Dec'* Now 
it is certain the Scots Queen comes to Tutbury to 
my charge. In what order I cannot ascerten you. 

To my wife the Countess of Shrewsbury at Tutbury 
give thisy 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 36 

The earl probably was on his way to meet his 
royal prisoner when he wrote the following. 

THE EARL OP SHREWSBURY TO THE COUNTESS. 

" My dear None^ being here arrived at Wing- 
field late yesternight from Roflford,* though weary 
in toiling about, yet thinking you would be desirous 
to hear from me, scribbled these few lines to let you 
understand I was in health, and wished you with me. 

" I picked out a very good time, for since my 
coming from home I never had letters but this 
morning from Gilbert, which I send you. I minde 
to-morrow, God willing, to be with you atChatsworth, 
and in the mean time as occurrences come to me you 
shall be partaker of them. I thank you, sweet 
none^ for your baken capon, and chiefest of all for 
remembering me. 

" It will be late to-morrow before my coming to 
Chatsworth, 7 or 8 of the clock at the soonest, and 
so fare well my true nxme. 

Your faithful husband, 

G. Shrewsbury. 
To my mfCy the Co', of 8h!' 



It would seem, that, although the earl and coun- 
tess were at this time on the best possible terms, 
yet that there were not wanting correspondents who 
were permitted to ofier their opinions on certain 

• Another of the many estates of the earl in Derbyshire and 
the counties Adjoining. 

D 2 



36 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

occurrences in the family, and these were persons, 
perhaps, whose mistaken zeal and curiosity might 
have caused the dissensions which afterwards arose 
between the different members, and the husband 
-and wife in particular. 

Some one writes to the countess as follows : the 
letter pui^ports to be " scribeled at London" in 
1568. 

" The newes is heare that my Lorde your hus- 
band is swome of the Privie Councell, and that the 
Scotishe Queen is on her jomey to Tutbury, some- 
thing against her will, and shalbe under my Lord's 
custody there." 

The conclusion of this curious letter, which Lodge 
gives " mth the signature torn off^' is remarkable ; 
it probably makes allusion to a proposed mairiage 
of one of the earl's family ; but who is intended by 
" that caterpillar,'' does not appear. 

'" And thus God longe p^serve my Lord and your 
good L. and send that the lyers sons maryage take 
no place, that the wrathe of God falle not of the 
howse of Shrewesbury by the same as the lyke hath 
fallen of other noble bowses, that can never be 
w*drawen to ther utter spoile : for the iniquitie of 
that caterpiller his father cannot be chosen but to 
lighte on his issue ; for yf my Lord mary w* him his 
L. must maintayne all the wronges that he hathe 
committed : for that he hath orderly and justly gotten 
is a smalle porsion for suche a noble lady, seeing he 
is not lyke to encreace it by neyther pollicy, wit nor 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 37 

vertue, nor any other good qualitie, but only by 
fortune, which is but a smalle certaynetie to truste 
unto. * * And so eftsons Jesus p'serve you, and 
send my cosen Fraunces a good hower and y' honor 
a glad grandmother. Scribeled at London, the 

of January, 1568. 
To the right honorable the Countess of Shrewes- 

bury this, at Tatbury or wheare.". 



It is probable, that from the first entrance of the 
Queen of Scots into the Earl of Shrewsbury's family, 
that circumstance was the cause of uneasy and rest- 
less thoughts, calculated to disturb the peace of the 
parties concerned. What the ambitious and dan- 
gerous schemes of the countess may have been, can- 
not now be known with certainty; but it is very 
likely that she secretly hoped to seciu-e Mary as her 
friend, in case of the failure of Elizabeth. 

So much compassion naturally waits upon the un- 
fortunate captive, that Queen Elizabeth is seldonj 
allowed sufficient sympathy, notwithstanding the 
perilous position in which she is known to have 
stood with respect to her rival. There was in the 
country still remaining, a strong CathoUc party, 
which, once partially successful, would have been 
joined by foreign powers, who held back their as- 
sistance from pohcy, but were merely biding their 
time. Ehzabeth had been once pronounced illegiti- 
mate and unfit to reign, and she had many enemies 



38 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

ready to remind the country of this fact. She had a 
crowd of spies and traitors near her; and it was only 
by resolute courage and untiring vigilance, that she 
could hope to overpower her dangers. Mary Stuart, 
though deserted by her subjects, never wanted friends 
ready to undertake any daring adventure for her sake; 
and, if her party could have made head, aid from 
abroad would not have been wanting. The beauty, 
talent, and misfortunes of Mary were sure to render 
her a romantic object of interest to the young and 
chivalrous ; and had Elizabeth relaxed for a moment 
in her suspicious surveillance, it is likely that her 
influence would have dechned, she would have ceased 
to overawe, and have fallen into contempt. It was, 
therefore, imperatively necessary that she should use 
that severe watchfulness over the shghtest action of 
her rival, which rendered' her captivity so doubly 
irksome : and, lamentable as it was, Elizabeth had 
no other course to pursue, if she would preserve her 
position as the sovereign of England. In spite of 
all Queen Mary's continued assertions to the con- 
trary, even to the scaffold, there can be no doubt 
that she was always striving against the interest of 
Elizabeth, for plot after plot discovered and over- 
come, proves that truth clearly enough : nor can 
Mary be therefore blamed, but for that reason it 
behoved her rival to exert every nerve to counteract 
the schemes which she knew to be ceaselessly afloat. 
That Mary should have been guarded as strictly 
as she was, is merely in conformity with the usual 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 39 

good sense, shrewdness, and foresight of the Queen 
of England ; but the hardships and discomforts she 
was condemned to endure, were by no means requi- 
site to her safety,' and only served to show the 
unfeeling nature of her enemy. Mary's pathetic 
letters, telling of all her privations, cannot but draw 
tears from every eye, and raise indignation in every 
heart against her whose, in this particular, useless 
oppression, tortured the unfortunate and sensitive 
victim of her tyranny. 

But, however well-judging in most things EKza- 
beth might be, she was, there is some reason to 
beheve, deceived in the characters of both the per- 
sons to whose charge she committed Mary; and 
had the Queen of Scots' fortunes turned out more 
propitious, neither the earl or the countess would, 
perhaps, have been so true to her interests as she 
imagined. 

The world might never have known, as a posi- 
tive fact, of the accusation made against the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, of an attachment to his r^yal prisoner, 
if he had not himself recorded it on his tombstone ; 
for it is even thus, like the mysterious carving in 
the house of Jacques Coeur, at Bourges,* that he 
betrays himself without necessity. 

" Qui s'excuse s'accuse." 

That the countess, also, before she grew jea- 
lous, had cultivated the friendship of the captive 

♦ In the palace of the great treasurer of Charles VII. is a room 
once decorated with the most singular bas-reliefs, which seemed 
to tell of some secret intimacy, either with Agn^s Sorel or the 



40 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Queen with the greatest assiduity, there seems little 
question, and the reason of her change is easily 
accounted for. 

When the countess found herseK admitted to 
the famihar intercourse of the most fascinatiag 
woman of her time, before long imprisonment 
had quelled her spirits or her hopes, of course 
she listened with surprise and attention to the 
Queen's plans, and all her sanguine expectations, 
until it appeared clear that she was yet destined to 
power and sovereign sway. Ehzabeth of Shrews- 
bury, although not easily imposed on, yet, led away 
by the hopes of the future aggrandizement of her 
family, and calculating the chances of success, which 
seemed great, resolved to take advantage of such 
an opportimity, and accordingly exerted herself to 
the utmost to be agreeable and necessary to her 
captive, in which she seems to have succeeded. 
Without placing much belief in the celebrated scan- 
dal letter^ said to be written by Mary, which is 
filled with petty details relative to Queen Ehzabeth, 
supposed to have been imparted by the countess, 
an undoubted letter of Mary's proves that, in the 
early period of their acquaintance, the countess pro- 
fessed to be her friend. Even then it would seem 
that Lady Shrewsbury was manoeuvring against 
her husband, according to her usual plan of endea- 
vouring always to keep power in her own hands. 

queen. Jacques Coeur is said to have executed these himself: 
details of them may be found in " A Pilgrimage to Auvcrgne," 
where the interesting remains of the town of Bourges are described. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 41 

Sheffield, Tutbury, Wingfield, and Chatsworth, 
for a series of years, became alternately the scene of 
Queen Mary's sufferings and bUghted hopes, and, 
from the time she was put under his care, the Earl 
of Shrewsbury was hurried backwards and forwards 
to his different estates with his dangerous charge, 
the object of suspicion, surroimded by spies and 
plots, his domestic peace entirely destroyed, and his 
mind and body agitated, wearied, and exhausted. 

The respect and awe in which the Countess of 
Shrewsbury was held by the relations of her diffe- 
rent husbands, is evident by the court paid to her. 
The following letter is curious, as showing the cus- 
tom of the period in placing young ladies of rank 
under the care of those considered their superiors, 
in a dependant position, much as the young sons of 
the nobility were attached as pages and attendants 
to noblemen of power and influence. 



SIR RICHARD CAVENDISH TO THE COUNTESS OF 
SHREWSBURY. 

" Plea&eth it y'' Ladyship, that as I acknowledge 
myself whoUy indebted unto you, as well for your 
wonted courtesy unto myself as your honorable 
letters in behalf of my brother Gerard, so have I 
now an himable suit unto you, whereof I crave 
such acceptation as your L^ship may conveniently 
admit, which is this : that where my brother 
(having his oldest daughter about the age of 
eighteen years) is very desirous for a time to place 



4% EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

her in service with your L. (by reason of such 
honorable report as he hath received of you) 
so it would please y' L. the rather at my humble 
suit to receive her into your service, trusting 
that if you vouchsafe so to do, neither the con- 
ditions of the maiden, neither her parents' main- 
tenance of her in your service, shall move your 
L. forethink your courtesy in this behalf. Thus 
commending my humble service both to my Lord 
and your Ladyship, I shall not cease to pray for 
your glad prosperity. 

Your Ladyship's humble to command, 

Richard Cavendish. 

TVom Grimston Hall, In SuflFolk, 12 July, 1570. 

lb the Might Hon, his singular good Lady the 
Countess of Shrewsbury ^ 



Queen EUzabeth, in the early stage of Mary's 
imprisonment, seemed anxious to concihate both 
the earl and countess, and could not have, for an 
instant, imagined that anything more than ordinary 
civiUty was shown by them towards their charge, 
for so the following letters from her ministers 
prove : 

extracts op letters from CECIL TO LORD 
SHREWSBURY. 1570. 

" We have, as in duty we are bound, made 
report to hir M^ of y' L. careful, discreet, and 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 43 

chargeable service in y'' charge of that Quene, for 
hir surety, and for the Q. M^' honour. We have 
also fully satisfied hir M^ with the paynefal and 
tmsty behaviour of my Lady your wiffe in gyving 
good regard to y® surety of y* said Q. Wherein 
hir M^ suerly semed to us to be very gladd & used 
many good words both of y' L. fideUty towards 
hir self, and of the love she thought my Lady did 
bear to her. 

" Now for the removing of the Q. hir M^ sayd 
at the first that she trusted 80 to make an end in 
short tyme y* your L, shuld be shortly acfted of 
hir ; nevertheless when I told hir M^ that you 
c* not long endure y' household there forlack of 
fewel and other things and y' I thought Tutbury 
not so fitt a place as it was supposed, but that 
Sheffield was the metest, hir M^ said she wold 
thinke of it, and within few days give me know- 
ledge : only I see hir M^ loth to have that Q. to be 
often removed, supposing that thereby she cometh 
to new acquejmtance, but to that I sayd your L. 
could remove her vdthout caUing any to you but 
y' ovm. Hir M^ is pleased that you suJBfer that 
Q, to take the ayre about y' howse on horssback 
so y' L. be in company, and not to pass fro* your 
hows above 1 or 2 myle, except it be on the 
moors." ^ 

(He then goes on to thank the countess for presents 
sent to his "wiff.'O 



44 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

LETTER FROM LORD BURGHLET TO THE COUNTESS 
OF SHREWSBURY. 

'^ May it please y' L^. Where of late Bryan and 
Hersey Lassefls having been before my L"*' of hir 
M^'* Council it appeareth dyrectly by the letters 
both of the Q. of Scotts and of the D. of Norfolk, 
also, that Hersey as he confesseth also himself 
hath been a dealer sometimes with the Queen 
there by the means of his brother being in 
service there, and yet that his dealing was not 
without knowledge of y' L. to the end as he 
sayth that the same might be always knowen, I have 
thought good to advertise y"" L. thereof, and withal 
pray you to let me understand the trouth of such 
matter, as y' L. doth know of the said Hersey 
LasseUs dealings from tyme to tyme as particularly 
as y'^ L. can remember." 



LORD HUNDSDON TO LORD BURGHLEY. 1571, Feb. 

[_Sent to Lord Shrewsbury^ 

" They have also advertised me from the Regent, 
of a certen boye y* shold come lately out of Eng** 
with letters to y® Castel of Edenburgh and is to 
return back agayn in 3 or 4 days. J have written 
to su" John Forster, to lay wait for him wMn his 
Wardenry, as I wiQ do with"" mine ; and if y' L. 
have any occasion to send where the S. Q. lyeth, y* 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 45 

were not amiss y* my Lord of Shrewsbmy had 
warning of him. 

** His letters be sewed in ^ buttons and semes of 
his coat. His coate is of black Inglish fiyze : he 
hath a cutt on his left cheke from his eye down, 
by the w^ he may be well knowen." 



Nothing can be more affectionate and confiden- 
tial at this time than the Earl of Shrewsbury's 
letters to his wife. In the following he seems much 
relieved and comforted by advice received from her, 
as his mind, no doubt, began to be perturbed by 
the communications of the ministers ; and he saw, 
too late, how dangerous and troublesome a service 
he had undertaken. 



THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO THE COUNTESS. 

" My dere none : of all joys I have under God, 
the greatest is yourself; to think I possess so 
faithfuly and one that I know loves me so dearly is 
all and the greatest comfort that this earth can give. 
Th^efore God give me grace to be thankful to him 
for his goodness showed unto me, a vile sinner; 
and when you advise in your letter you willed me 
to* which I did; that I should nott 

be to this lady nothing of the matter ; 

my stomach was so full, I asked her in quick manner, 

♦ The MS. is here defaced. 



46 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

'whether she writ any letters to any her friends, 

that I would stand in her title.' She afl&rms of 

her honour that she hath not ; but howsoever it is 

she hath written therein I may safely answer I 

make small account thereof. I thank you, sweet 

heart, that you are so ready to come when I will, 

therefore dear heart send me word how I might 

send for you, and till I may have your company I 

"shall think long my only joy, and therefore appoint 

a day and in the meantime I shall content me with 

your will and long daily for your coming. I 

your letters con very well and I hke them so well 

that they could not be amended, and have sent 

them up to Gilbert. I have written to him how 

happy he is to have such a mother as you are. 

Farewell only joy. This tuesday Evg. 

Your faithful one, 

G. Shrewsbury. 
To my Wifer 



The annoyances of the earl were now beginning 
in good earnest respecting his royal prisoner, and 
the zeal which he professes towards Elizabeth 
carries him even beyond the bounds of humanity. 
Whether the Queen thought that her servant on this 
occasion did 

" Protest too much," 

is not shown ; but she seemed at all events to be 
careful not to leave him entirely alone in his trust. 



COUNTESS OF SHEBWSBURT. 47 
THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO THE QUEEN.* 

3rd March 1572. 
" May it please y' most excellent M^. — ^It ap- 
peareth by my Lord Hmitingdon'st lettars to me 
whereof I send y' M^ a copy that snspycion is of 
some new devyse for this Queen's lybarte, whyche 
I can very esely beleve, for I am (as alwe's before) 
p'swaded hur friends everywhere occupye there 
heddes thereunto. I loke for no lesse than they 
can e do for hur and provyde for hur safte accord- 
ingly. I have hur sure inoughe, and shall kepe 
hur forthe-comynge at y' M^® comande^t ether quyhe 
or dedy what soever she or aney for her inventes for 
the contrare : and as I have no doute at all of hur 
stelynge away from me, so if aiTy forsabull attempte 
be gyven for hur, the pretest perrell is sure to be 
kur% &c. &c. Sheffield C." 



THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO LORD BURGHLEY. 
1572. 

" My very good L. — ^These are to adv'tise you 
that this Q. remayns still wHn these foure walles in 
sure keping ; and those jTsons continew very quiet, 
thanked be God. She is much offended at ony 
restrainct from her walking w'out this castle ; but, 
for all her anger, I will not suffi-e her to passe one 

* Howard Papers. 

t Lord Huntingdon had written from York, Ist of March, to 
warn Lord Shrewsbury that some plot was on foot to deliver 
Mary ; and it behoved him to be wary. 



48 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

of these gats until I have contrary coin aundement 
expressely from the Q' Ma '*®. And though I was 
fully jTsuaded that my nombre. of souldiours was 
sufficient for her save keping, yet have I thought 
good this tyme to encrease the same with thirty 
souldiers more, for the more terror of the evel 
disposed. And I have also given and do kepe, 
precise order, not only that no maner of conference 
shall be had with her, or any of her's, but also that 
no intelligence shall be brought to her, or any of 
them. And likewise I have given orders for walk- 
ing and observing the woods and other places 
thereabouts, that are most to be suspecte to th' 
end I may spedily understand of ai^y resort or 
haunt of suspecte jTsons, or of anything els met to 
knowen. Hereof I thought met to advertyse y' L. 
that you may please to declare the same as ye think 
convenient unto her M^. whom I besech Almighty 
God preserve from all practyses of her enemyes, 
and so I ende. Shefeld Castle, 24 Sep." 



It was certainly a somewhat daring thing on the 
part of the countess to venture on forming an 
aUiance with the brother-in-law of Mary Stuart 
herself, when, in 1574, she made up a hasty mar- 
riage with her daughter, EUzabeth, and the Earl of 
Lennox. This was, indeed, a startling step, and it 
is by no means surprising that all the parties 
concerned in the transaction fell under the displea- 
sure of the Queen of England. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 49 

Elizabeth had had her suspicions aheady awakened 
after the discovery of the Duke of Norfolk's plot, and 
many were her letters sent by couriers, bearing the 
words, " hast post, hast, hast, hast for life, life, life, 
life!" &c. which Burghley and others had been 
obhged to despatch, charging her keepers to be 
vigilant. Great must have been her anger when 
she, who could seldom at any time endure to hear 
of marriages, learned that the countess had pre- 
sumed to enter into a family aUiance with her 
captive's connexions. How the objects of her anger 
escaped appears extraordinary ; probably by means 
of their representations respecting the enmity which 
subsisted at that time in the minds of Damley's 
mother and father against their unfortunate daugh- 
ter-in-law. Queen Mary. 

The following letters show the perturbation of 
the earl's mind on this occasion. They are pre- 
served by Lodge.* 



" May it please your excellent Ma"^ — ^The co- 
m'andm't your Ma*® once gave me that I shold 
sometymes wryte to you, although I had lytle to 
wryte of, boldnyth me thus to presume, rather t' 
avoyde blame for neglygens then dare tarey longe 

* No. 98. Rough copies, on one sheet, indorsed by the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, 2 Dec. 1574. " To the Queue's Ma«e, to my L. 
Treasaurer, and my L. of Lee. These conseme the maryge of 
my La.* dawghter." 

VOL. I. E 



50 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

for any mater worthy your Ma'**''' heryng, only thys 
I may wryte ; it ys greatly to my comfort to here 
your Ma**® passed your p'res in p^fect health and so 
do contynew. I pray to Almightye God to hold it 
many yers, and longe after my days ended; so 
shall your people fynd themselves moste happie. 

" Thys La. my charge, is safe, at your Ma*'®" co- 
mandm*. And may it further pleace your Ma*® I 
understand of late your Ma*'®" dyspleasure ys sowght 
agenst my wyfe, for maryage of her dawghter to my 
La. Lennox' son. I moost confes to your Ma*'® as 
trew it is, yt was delte in sodenly, and wythout my 
knowledge, but as I dare undertake and insure your 
Ma"® for my wyfe, she, fynding her dawghter dys- 
apoynted of yong Barte, where she hoped, and that 
th' oder yong gentylman was inclyned to love wyth 
a few days' acquyntans, dyd hyr best to further her 
daughter to thys matche : wythout havyng therein 
any other intent or respect then wyth reverent dutie 
towards your Ma"® she owght. I wrote of this 
mater to my L. of Lee. a good whyle a goe at great 
length. I hyd nothyng from hym that I knewe was 
done abowte the same, and thowght not mete to 
troble your Ma*'® therewyth, because I toke yt to be 
of no syche importance as to wryte of untyll nowe 
that I am urged by syche as I see wyll not forbear 
to devyse and speake wh* may procure any susspy- 
cyon, or dowbtfulnes of my servyce here. But I 
have alweys found your Ma**® my good and gratyous 
soveraygne, so do I comfort myselfe that your wys- 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 51 

dome can fynde out ryght well what causes move 
me thereunto, and therefore am not afferd of any 
dowbtfiill opynyon or dyspleasure to remeane with 
your M**® of me or of my wyfe, whome your Heigh- 
nes and your councell have many weys, tryed in times 
of most danger. We never had any other thought 
or respect but as your Ma*'®'* most trwe and fayth- . 
full servants ; and so do trewly serve and faythfully 
love and honour your Maj*®, ever praying to Al- 
mighty God for your Ma** as we are in dutie bounden. 
Shefeld, 2 Dec. 1574." 



"to my lord treasurer. 
•'My very good L. for that I am advertissed the 
late maryage of my wyfe's dawghter ys not well 
takyn in the court, and theruppon are some conjec- 
tures, more than well, brought to hyr Ma*'*"'" eares, 
in yU parte agenst my wyfe ; I have a lytle towched 
the same in my letters nowe to hyr Ma*** referring 
further knowledge thereof to leters I sent my L. of 
Lee. a good whyle synce, wherein I made a longe 
discourse of that mater. And yf your L. mete w* 
anythyng thereof that cons'nes my wyfe or me, and 
sowndes yn ill part agenst us, let me crave of your L. 
so moche favor as to speake your knowlege and 
opynyon of us both. No man ys able to say so 
muche as your L. of oure servys, because you have 
so carefully serched yt, wyth g* respect to the safe 
kepynge of my charge. So I take my leave of your 
L. Shef. 2 Dec. 1574." 

E 2 



52 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

A letter from the Earl of Leicester, in answer to 
one similar to the above, is answered by that noble- 
man thus : — 

" My veary good Lo. — I have rec. yo' Lettre, 
wherein yo' L. doth thank me for dealing at the 
Starr Chamber w* one Ponltrell, who in dede dyd 
very much abuse yo' Lo and my L. you may think 
ther shall no matter of your's come in questyon 
where I am, y* I wyll not deale in yt as well and as 
frendly every way, as I wolde for the ErU of War- 
wick my brothr/' &c. &c. 

In another letter of Lord Shrewsbury's to Lord 
Burghley,'he pleads hard to be excused, and has 
much to say in favour of lady Lenox, and the duty 
and fidelity she feels towards the Queen : — " I do 
not, nor can fynde," says he, " the maryge of that 
Lade's sunne to my wyfe's daughter can anny 
wey be taken w* indeferent juggement to be anny 
offence or contemptuous to her Ma***." He adds, — 
" It is nott the marege matter, nor the hatered sum 
bere to my Lade Ljmox, my wyfe or to me, that 
makes this grete adoo and okupyes heddes w* so 
many devyses : it is of a grettar mattar : whyche I 
leve to cofijecture, not douting but your L.'s wys- 
dome hath forsene it and therof had dew consydera- 
cion, as alwes you have been most carefol for it." 

Probably the Countess of Shrewsbury, alarmed at 
the effect of her dangerous step, was now desirous, 
as much as possible, to strengthen her family ; and it 
was, doubtless, by her advice that her husband pro- 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURT. 53 

posed to Lord Bnrghley a marriage between their 
children. On this occasion Bnrghley wrote that 
curious and cautious ktter, in which he declines 
the aUiance, giving as a reason the danger he should 
expose himself to of falUng under the Queen's dis- 
pleasure, who had already been inclined to suspect 
him, her oldest servant, as she did all others, of a 
leaning towards her unhappy captive ; which sus- 
picion he feared might be strengthened if he should 
connect himself with a family now related to the 
Lennoxes by marriage. Amongst other good wishes 
with which the letter concludes, the learned lord's 
observations on learning are somewhat amusing: 
after hoping the son of Lord Shrewsbury may receive 
all the education proper for him, he says : — " May he 
be taught to feareGod, love your L.his naturall father, 
and to know his friends ; without any curiosity of 
human learning ^ which, without the feare of God, I 
se doth great htirt to aU youth in this tyme and age." 
The object of all this turmoil, Elizabeth Caven- 
dish, seems to have had-httle happiness in her 
marriage; blamed, imprisoned, persecuted, and 
reproached, she had small cause to congratulate 
herself on the dangerous elevation to which her 
mother's ambition had raised her ; and, after a brief 
space, the husband, in whom so many hopes were 
fixed, fell a victim either to sickness or sorrow, and 
she became a widow, with one feniale child, Ara- 
bella, the heiress of her griefs and all the misfortunes 
of the devoted race of Stuart. 



54 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

A letter she writes to her mother, either before 
or after her widowhood, shows that she had fallen 
under her censure ; probabljl being the weakest, all 
the blame feU on her. 



THE COUNTESS OF LENOX TO THE COUNTESS OP 
SHREWSBURY. 

" My humble duty remembered ; beseaching your 
L. of your daily blessing ; presuming of your mo- 
ther-like affection towards me your child, that trusts 
I have not so evil deserved as your L. hath made 
shew by your letters to others, which maketh me 
doubtftd that your Ladyship hath been informed 
some great untruth of me, or else I had well hoped 
that for some small trifles I should not have been 
condemned in your displeasure so long a time. 
And I might be so bold as to crave at your L. 
hands, that it would please you to esteem such false 
bruits as your L. hath heard reported of me as 
lightly as you have done when others were in the 
like case, I should think myself much the more 
bound to your L. I beseach you make my hearty 
commendations to my aunt. 

" I take my leave in humble wise. 

Your L. humble and obed* daughter, 

E. Lenox. 

Hackney, 25 July." 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUET. 55 

No doubt Lady Shrewsbury exerted all her wit 
and art to clear herself to Queen Elizabeth, and 
restore her confidence. It is by no means unlikely 
that she represented the intimacy which had sub- 
sisted between her and the captive as having been 
carried on with a view to the Queen's service. 
Elizabeth seemed so satisfied with her fidelity, that 
the Earl of Leicester was directed to address to 
Lord Shrewsbury a letter, in which she is per- 
mitted to be as much as -she pleases in the company 
of Mary ; " her Ma^*® having not only veary good 
opinione of my Lady's wysdome and dyscretyon, 
but thinks how convenyent y* y's for that Q. to be 
accompaned, and passe y® tyme rather w* my Lady 
than meaner personnes/' 

Soon after this time, the countess and her lord 
appear to be in the highest favour with the Queen, 
as the following letter, written with her own hand, 
shows. 

THE QUEEN TO THE EARL AND COUNTESS. 

" Our very good Cousins : — 

" Being geven t'understand fi'om our cousin 
of Leycester how honnorably he was not onlie 
latelie receaved by you and our cousin the Coun? 
tesse at Chatsworth, and hys dyet by you both dis- 
charged at Buxtons, but also presented with a very 
rare present, we shold do him great wronge (hould- 
ing him in that place of favor we do) in cace we 
should not let you understand in howe thanckfull 



56 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

sorte we accept the same at both your hands, not 
as don unto him but to o' owne self, reputing him 
as annother ourself ; and therefore you may assure 
yourselves that we, taking uppon us the debt not 
as his but owre owne, will take care accordingly to 
discharge the same, in such honnorable sorte as so 
well des'rving creditors as ye are shall nev' have 
cause to thinck ye have met w*^ an ungratefull 
tiebtor. 

" In this acknowledgment of new debtes we 
maie not forgett our old debte, the same being as 
great as a sovaigne can owe to a subject; when 
through your loyall and most carefall looking the 
charge committed to you, both we and o' realme 
enjoy a peaceable gov^nement, the best good happe 
that to any prince on earthe oan befaule : This good 
happe then growing from you, ye might thinke 
your selfes most unhappye yf you served such a 
Prince as should not be as readye gratyousUe to 
consider of yt as thankfuUie to acknowledge the 
same, whereof ye maie make full accompt to your 
comfort, when tyme shall s'rve. Geven under o" 
signet at o' mannor of Grenew^^, the 25 day of 
June 1577. in the 19*^ yere of o'' raigne. 

Elizabeth R.'' 



To this " comfortable letter of her owne blessyd 
handwrytyng,'' the earl repUes with so many 
protestations of his power of resisting the " fayre 
speche" of the object of so much jealousy, that one 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 57 

can scarcely avoid thinking that he either did feel 
at the very time, or had felt, his resolution waver. 
" Were hyr speche," he continues, " fayre or 
crabed, my onely respecte hath byn, is styU and so 
shall contynewe, to the dutye I owe your Maj'^*, 
and I do seeke as much as a man maye to per- 
forme as I am bowndyn. I fear not then your 
Maj**®" dowbtfulness of my yelding to hyr so longe 
as with hart and mynd I do the servyce yo' Ma''® 
comyttyth to me according to the trust y' M*'® 
reposeth in me : I have hyr forthecoming at yo"" 
Maj"*'* comand' ; and so wyll hold hyr p''son fayth- 
fully and trewly, which I knowe doth satisfy your 
M*'® and is my dyscharge." 

The earl goes on to thank EUzabeth for the com- 
fortahle message brought by M. Julio — a suspi- 
cious circumstance; for this Juho Borgarucci was 
an Italian empiric, attached to the Earl of Leicester, 
of infamous character, and known for the practice 
of the art which he had leamt in the same school 
with Rene Bianco, the favourite of Catherine de 
Medici, who was called by the common people, 
''the Queens poisoner y 

The widowed daughter of the countess was at this 
time persecuted by the Earl of Marr, then Regent 
of Scotland, who refused to acknowledge the right 
of her daughter, Arabella, to the succession of her 
father, Charles, late Earl of Lennox. Queen Elizabeth 
seems to have espoused her cause for the time, doubt- 
less for some good reason ; and the following letter 



58 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

from the rnifortimate lady is to return thanks for 
the support given her and her " poore orphantt." 



ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OP LENNOX, TO 
LORD BURGHLET. 

" I can but yeld your Lordship most harty thankes 
for your continuall goodness towardes me and my 
lyttell one, and specyally for your Lordship's late 
good dealyng with the Scotts Ambasedor for my 
poore chyld's ryght, for which, as allso sundry other- 
wys we are for ever bounde to your Lordship whom 
I beseech styll to further that cans as to your Lord- 
ship may seem best. 

" I can assuer your Lordship, that th' Erledome 
of Lennox was graunted by Acte of Parlyment to 
my Lord my late husband and the heyres of his 
body, so that they should offer great wrong in seek- 
ing to take it from Arbela : which I trust by your 
Lordship's good means wyll be prevented, being of 
your meer goodness for justes sake so well disposed 
thereto. For all wyche your Lordship's goodness 
as I am bound I rest in hart more thankfull than I 
can anywys expres. 

" I take my leave of your Lordship, whom I pray 
God longe to preserve. 

"At Newgat Street the 15 Aug. 1578. Your 
Lordship's, 

As I am bounden, 

E. Lennox. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 69 

" Upon my advertysment to my lady my mother 
of the infection at Chekey (from whence I would at 
the first have removed if I had known any fitt place) 
though the danger was not great, she hath com- 
manded me presently to com hether for want of 
a more convenyant house. 

To the Might Hon, my very goodLorde the Lord 
Burghley, Heigh Treaorer of England^ 



The office of jailor must be at all times a disagree- 
able one, for the guardian is Uttle more at Uberty 
than his prisoner. It is likely that the high spirit 
of the countess often rebelled at being always obliged 
to watch her own words and movements, and that, 
whenever she could, she absented herself from the 
abode which had been, by their arbitrary mistress, 
turned into a prison. 

There are many letters extant from Lord Burleigh, 
and others, to the earl, respecting the conduct he was 
expected to pursue ; which makes it appear that he 
had enough to irritate his temper, independently of 
domestic trials, of which his very situation was the 
cause. 

When suffering from sickness, he was reprimanded 
for an intention of going to Buxton for reUef, the 
quick fears of Queen Elizabeth immediately suggest- 
ing to her mind the possibility of Mary's not being 
sufficiently guarded in his absence. One would think 



60 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

she was standing over Sir William Cecil, when he 
reiterates the suspicious hints he gives : — 

" Her maf^ hathe coininandyd me to gyve your 
L. my poore advice, that yf yow were not departyd 
to Buxton, yow woolde stay that jomey untill know- 
ledge had from her Ma**® : and if yow were gon 
fwh. s/ie said she wolde hardly belevej then I shold 
seke to understande what ordre your L. had left for 
attendance upon the sayde Queue, and that yo'self 
shold not be long absent from thence ; which hir 
M*'® sayd she dyd as much esteme for hir owne honor 
as to have the Queue of Scotts to be honnorablie -at- 
tended as for any matter of suretie. * * assuring 
your L. that dyvers doo think it very strange, yf it 
be true, that yow have departed to Buxton without 
making, the Queene's Ma"® privie thereof, and some- 
what the more, (yf it be true that is also sayd) that my 
Lady of Shrewsbmy shold be gon thether w*^ yo' L." 

At the same time that she was harassing her 
faithful servant in this manner, and grudging him 
necessary change of air, and every sort of amusement, 
the wily Elizabeth contrived to keep him in good 
humour, by her familiarity and apparent confidence, 
as when she writes to him on occasion of a sUght 
illness, which had alarmed some and given hopes to 
others. Her vanity is here apparent, as on most oc- 
casions, for she evidently fears that it should be 
thought by affy that her beauty was injured by the 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 61 

small-pox, which it was erroneously rumoured had 
attacked her. She writes privately : — 

"My faithful Shrewsbury. — ^Let no grief touch 
your heart for fear of my disease, for I assure you 
if my credit were not greater than my show there 
is no beholder would beheve that ever I had been 
touched with such a malady. 

Your faithful loving Sovereign, 

"22nd Oct. 1572. Eliz^MI." 



Such crumbs of comfort were not unnecessary 
to the devoted servant, who received, as his allow- 
ance for all the vexations and expenses attending 
the custody of the Queen of Scots, only thirty 
pounds per week, and, mit of thisy he had to keep 
forty soldiers for a guard ! 

There was no end to the plots and suspicions of 
plots which Lord Shrewsbury had to watch after 
and investigate, in the neighbourhood where his 
prisoner resided. The beUef in witchcraft was then 
very prevalent, and the art was not allowed to he 
idle by the favourers of Queen Mary. Amongst 
other culprits taken in the fact, it is recorded of 
" one Avery KeUer, servant unto Rowland Lacon, 
of Willey, near Bridgenorth," that he " confessed to 
bringing certain books of the black art to John 
ReveU, which the coryuring scholars, named Palmer 
and Falconer, and Skynner the priest, did occupy 
in their practise at the said Revell's house." 



62 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

This man, on being interrogated, acknowledged 
that he conjured for divers objects ; for hidden 
money, for helping disease, and for knomng secrets 
of the realm. 

There is a very rare and cmious book in the 
library of Hardwick Hall, in which are several 
enactments agamst witchcraft about this period. 
The book is written in a polyghtt language, ex- 
tremely comic to read, of which I do not remember 
ever to have seen an instance before. The title- 
page runs thus : 

** Loffice and aucthoritie de Justices de Peace, in part collect 
per Sir Anthouie Fitzberbert Chiaaler, iades un de les Justices del 
common Banke. Et ore le tierce foits inlarge per Ricbard 
Crompton un Apprentice de la common ley; et imprimye Ian 
du grace 1587. A que est annex Loffice de Viconts, Baylifes, 
Escbeators, Constables, Coroners, &c. collect per le dit Mounsier 
Fitzb. Si fueris Judex, miti sis corde memento Dicito que pos- 
sunt, dicta decere senem. Quicquid dicturns es, prius apud 
animum tuum expende ; multorum enim cogitationem lingua 
pre9urrit. Perenesis Isocrates ad Demonicum. At London by 
Ricbard TotteU." 

The following extracts exhibit the belief of the 
period, delivered in an unkmvm tonffoe, somewhat 
unfit to make a complicated subject plain : — 

"Figures, calculations. Si ascun deins les do- 
minions le roigne, ou dehors, per creating on setting 
dascun figure on per jecter de nativitie, ou par cal- 
culation, prophecying witchcraft conjuration ou auter 
tiel semble iUoyal meanes quecunque, ad inquire a 
scauer et admis hors per expresse paroir, faite ou 
escript quam longement sa maiestie viuera et con- 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 63 

tinuera, ou que regnera come roy ou roigne de eel 
Realme Dengleterre apres le mort desa highnes ad 
other ascim maner de direct prophecies a ascun tiel 
intent ou purpose ; chescun tiel offender lour aiders, 
procurers and abettors s'ot felons et perdront clergie 
& sarictuarie. 23 Eliz. cap 2." 

"Coniuration. Et ascun ad use inuocation ou con- 
iuration de malueis spirites, pur ascun cause, ou ad 
use ascun witchcraft, iachamet, charming ou sorcery 
pql ascu pron est tue ou destroy, ceo est fel in eux, 
leur ayders & counsellers & jTdront clergie & sanc- 
tuary. 5 El. cap. 16. et ceo est auxi counter 
escript que dit que sorcerers witches & inchaunters 
ne possedra le kingdome de Dieu ne de Christ. 

"Notaqueun home fait pris inSouthwerke auesque 
un teste et un visage dun home mort, one Uvre de 
sorcery in s"o maile, et fuit amesne auant Knuiet, 
Justice de Banco Regis, mes nul indictmet fuit la 
vers lui per que les clerkes luy fierent sermenter que 
ne ferroit sorcery et fuit deUver de prison, et le teste 
et hvre fuee arses as costages le prison a Tuthill. 
—45 E. 3, 17." 

In spite of plots and plotters, witchcraft and trea- 
son, up to this period, all seems harmony between 
the husband and the wife ; nor is it till about the 
year 1577, that anything like a shade appears to 
have clouded the domestic sky. The first intima- 
tion of this is to be gathered from a letter which. 



64 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

though very affectionate, yet not only breathes a 
somewhat imperious tone, but hints at his faUing 
affection. This letter shows the countess to be still 
busied in her favourite pursuit of building, which 
she carried on with the spirit of a mason and car- 
penter. 

She always speaks of the earl's children as her 
own, and, indeed, it afterwards appears that she had 
contrived so to gain ascendancy over them, that 
they were estranged from the father and ready to, 
side with her in any dispute. 

With respect to the passage so often commented 
on, and construed into a hint of that which was 
afterwards made a serious charge against the earl, 
namely, his attachment to the Scottish Queen, it 
appears to me that when the countess desires to 
have news of ^hiniy his charge and lovCy she alludes 
to three persons, not two. Himself, the captive 
Queen, and his love, the little Arabella, whom she 
calls her jewel whenever she speaks of her, and about 
whose health she expresses herself as anxious. When 
the jealousy of such a woman was once roused, she 
was not likely to treat her husband's sUghtest ap- 
proach to infidehty as a joke, for her well-known 
reply to Queen Elizabeth, when asked how their 
charge fared, had a deeper and really malicious 
meaning, and was probably the cause of Mary's 
removal from her husband's custody. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 65 



• THE COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY TO THE EARL OF 
SHREWSBURY.* 

" My dear harte, I have sende your letters 
agene, and thanke you for them ; they requyre no 
ansere ; but, when you wryte, remember to thanke 
hjm for them. If you cane not gett my teimber 
caryed I moste be w*^out yt, tho I gretely wante yt ; 
but yf yt wolde plese you to comand Hebert, or 
any other, to move your tenants to brynge yt, I 
knowe they wyll not denye to do 3^;. I preye you 
lette me knowe yf I shall have the tone of iron : Yf 
you cane not spare yt, I muste make shefte to gette 
yt elsewhere, for I may not now want it. You 
promised to sende me money afore thys tytne to by 
oxxen, but I se out of syght out of mynde w^ you. 

" My son Gelberte hath been vary yll in hys hede 
ever sence he came from Shefelde : I thynke yt ys hys 
oulde dyseasse : He ys nowe, I thanke Goi, some- 
what better, and she very well. I wyll send you 
the byll of my wode stoflfe : I prey you lette yt be 
sent to Jone, that he may be sure to resaive all : I 
thanke you for takynge order for the caryage of yt 
to Hardwycke : yf you wolde comande your wagener 
myght bryng yt thether I thynke yt wolde be saffe- 
lest caryed. Here ys nether malte nor hoppes: 
The malte cume laste ys so vary yU and stynkenge 
as Haukes thynkes none of my workmen wyll drynke 

* From Lodge's Illustration of British History, vol. ii. 
pp. 167—169. No. CXXII. Talbot Papers, Vol. O. f. 66. 

VOL. I. F 



66 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

yt. Shewe this letter to my frende, and then re- 
tume yt. I thynke you wyll take no dyscharge at 
Sowche's handes, nor the rest: You may worke 
stylle in disspyte of them; the laws ys on your 
syde. Yt cannot be but that you shaQ have the 
Queue's consent to remove hether ; therfdr yf you 
wolde have thynges yn redynes for your provysyon 
you myght the soner come : Come ether afore Med- 
somer or not thys yere : for any provysyon you have 
yet you myght have conie as well at Ester as at thys 
day : Here is yet no maner of provysyon more than 
a letyl drenke, whyche makes me to thynke you 
mynde not to come. God sende my jewell* helthe. 

Your faythefull wyflTe, 

E. Shrowesburt.I 
" Saturday Morning.'* 

" I have sent you letyss, for that you love them ; 
and ever seconde day some ys sent to your charge 
and you: I have nothynge else to sende. Lette 
me here how you, your charge, and love dothe, and 
comende me I pray you. Yt were well you cente 
fore or five peces of the great hangenges that they 
might be put oup, and some carpetes. 

" I wyshe you wollde have thjmges in that redynes 
that you myght come w* in iii or foure dayes after 



* She always allades to Arabella as " her jevrel." 

t This letter was probably written in 1577, when the earl was 

engaged in a dispute with Sir John Zouch about his lead mines 

in Derbyshire. 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 67 

you here from Courte. Write to Ballvene to calle 
on my Lord Tresorare for ansare of your leters. 

To my lorde my husbanded the Brie of Shrowes- 
buryy 

This was probably in answer to a letter from the 
earl which is here given. 

THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO HIS COUNTESS.* 

" My swetehart, your true and faithefull zeale 
you beare me is more comfortable to me than any- 
thing I can thynke upon, and I gyve God thanks 
dayly for his benefits he hath bestowed of me ; and 
greatest cause I have to gyve him thanks that he 
hathe sent me you in my old yeares, to comfort me 
withall. Your coming I shall thynke long for, and 
shall send a Fryday your lyttar horses, and a Sater- 
day momyng I wyll send my folkes, because Fryday 
they wyl be desirous to be at Rotheram faire. 

*' It appeares by my sister Wingfeld's letter that 
there is brute of this Queue's going from me. I thank 
you for sending it me, which I retmne again, and 
wyll not shew it tyll you may speke it yourself, 
whit your leave ; and I have sent you John Knyf- 
ton's letter, that Lord brought me, that you may 
perceive what is bruted of the yonge King. / 
thank you for your fatt caporiy and it shall be baken 
and kept cold and untainted tyll my swetehart come : 

* From Queen Elizabeth and her Times, edited by T. Wright, 
vol. ii. pp. 54, 55. 

p 2 



68 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Gesse you who it is, I have sent you a cocke that 
was yyven me^ which is all the dainties I have here. 
" I have wrytten to Sellers to send every weke a 
quarter of rye for this tenne wekes, which wyl be as 
much as I know wyl be had there, and ten quarters 
of barley, which wyl be all that I can spare you. 
Farewell my swete true none and faithefull wyfe. 

All yours, 

G. Shrewsbury." 



It is about the date of 1577, as appears by their 
letters, that the afiFection between the earl and 
countess begins to waver. As most quarrels arise 
from petty causes, it is very likely that their first 
diflFerences came from a trifle. The C!ountess, it is 
to be presumed, took but Uttle trouble to curb her 
temper, and her violence seemed to make an un- 
pleasing impression on her husband's mind. 

Gilbert Talbot, the earl's second son, seems to have 
constituted himself the especial friend and adviser of 
his mother-in-law, and writes letters to her which 
show that every movement of his father was watched 
by him, and every word treasured, in order to be 
reported to the countess, for her advantage. 

The following gossiping letter is more remark- 
able for its minute details than its talent, though the 
letters of Gilbert from Court are sometimes extremely 
amusing, when the subject allows : there is no little 
confusion of persons in this epistle, it must be con- 
fessed. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 69 

GILBERT TALBOT TO THE COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY.* 
1577. 

" My duty her" rem.f I trust y'^ La. will pardone 
me in wrytinge playnely and truly, altho' it be 
bothe bluntely and tediously. 

" I met my L. at BolsorJ yesterday, aboute one of 
the clock, who at the very fyrst was rather desirous to 
heare from hence than to enquire of KyUingeworthe. 
Quothe he, ' Gilbert, what taulke had my wyfe w**" 
you ?' * Marry, my Lord,' quoth I ; 'it hathe 
pleased her to taulke w*^ me once or 2"^ since 
my coming ; but the matter she most spake of is 
no small discomfort for me to understand.' Then 
was he very desirous, and bade me tell him what. 
I began : ' Truly, Ser, with as grieved a mind as 
ever I saw woman in my lyfe, she told me your L. 
was vehemently offended with her, in suche sorte 
and with so many words, and shewes iq y' anger of 
evil mind towards her, as therby y' La. said you 
colde not but stand doubtful that all his wonted 
love and affection is cleane turned to the contrary, for 
y' La. further said you had given him no cause at 
all to be offended. You hearing that y' em- 
broiderers were kept out of the lodge from their 
bedds by John Dykenson's conTand*, said to my 
L. these words in the mominge : ' Now did you 

♦ Hist, of Derby. 

t For — ^herein remembered. 

X Bolsover Castle, near Hardwick. 



70 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

give confand' that the embroiderers sh* be kept out 
of the lodge?' and my L. answered No. Then 
quoth your L. * They were kept from their beds there 
yesternight, and he that did so, said Jo Dyckinson 
had given y* expresse cd^'m* which my L. said was 
a lye." And he said it was utterly untrue. And so 
I w^ have gone on to have towld the rest, how y^ La. 
willed him to enquire whether they were not in this 
maiTer kept out or no ; his proceeding into violent 
collet and harde speeches ; but he cutt me oflF, 
saying it was to no purpose to hear my recital of 
this matter ; for if he listed, he said he c*^ remember 
cruel speeches y' La. used to him, which were such 
as, quoth he, " I was forced to tell her she scolded 
like one that came from the Banke,' (bad neighbour- 
hood,) &c., ' she hathe such a sort of varlets about 
her as never resteth carrying of tales : and then 
he uttered cruel words against Owen chiefly, and 
the embroiderers. * * Then quoth I, ' I think my 
Lady be at Chatesworth by this time.' ' What,' 
quoth he, ' is she gone from Sheffield ? * * is her 
malice such that she wiQ not tarry one night for 
my coming ?" * * He is greatly offended at y' going 
hence yesterday. After he had seen all his grounds 
about Bolsor, and was coming into the way home- 
wards, he began with me again, saying, all the 
howse might discern y' La. stomoke ags' him by y' 
departure before his coming. * * '^You know, 
Gilbert, how often I have cursed the building at 
Chatesworth for want of her company ; you see she 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 71 

careth not for my company, hy her going away, 
I w^not have done so to her for 500 pomids/' 

«* * The hastie letter from Sir J. Cunstable 
was to advertise that there were 2 Scotts that travel 
with linnin cloths to sell, y* gave letters of im- 
portance to this Queen ; one of them is brother to 
Curie. My L. Huntingdon's letter was refusal of 
land y* my L. offered him to sell." 



The countess had other correspondents, who 
informed her of the smallest particular which 
happened in her absence from the houses where her 
husband resided ; by which it appears that the 
earl's jealousy of her people was by no means 
without foundation. 

This quarrel, however, seems to have been made 
up, and no positive rupture to have taken place j 
domestic events of a melancholy nature apparently 
drew the husband and wife together for a time. 

The mother of Damley, and grandmother of 
Arabella, Margaret, Countess of Lennox, died in 
the year 1578, as this letter of Queen Mary's 
announces to Beaton, archbishop of Glasgow, her 
ambassador in France. 



Mat 2, 1578. 
" The Countess of Lenox, my mother-in-law, died 
about a month ago, & the Q. of E^ has taken into 
her care her ladyship's grand daughter (Arabella S.) 



73 .EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

I w^ desire those who are about my son to make 
instances in his name for this succession, not for 
any desu'e I have that he sh* actually succeed to it, 
but rather to testify that neither he nor I ought to 
be reputed or treated as foreigners in England, who 
are both bom within the same isle. 

" This good lady was, thank God, in very good 
correspondence with me these 5 or 6 years bygone, 
and has confessed to me by sundry letters under her 
hand, v^ I carefully preserve, the injury she did 
me by ther unjust pursuits w^* she allowed to go 
against me in her name, thro' bad information, but 
principally, she said, thro' the express orders of the 
Q. of E^ and the persuasions of her council, who 
took much sohcitude that we might never come to 
good understanding together. But as soon as she 
came to know of my innocence, she desisted from 
any further pursuit against me," &c. 



This fact is of great importance in the history of 
Mary's life, and ought to be convincing evidence of 
her innocence of her husband's murder. 

The building and decorating of Chatsworth and 
Hardwick, either the old or new hall, were going on 
at this period with energy, as appears from the 
following letter to his father, from Gilbert Talbot, 
who seemed employed on all occasions.* 

* July 6th, 1576, quoted in Nichols* Progresses of Queen 
Elizabeth, vol. ii. pp. 5, 6. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 73 

" I have bespoken ii pair of litell flagons, for 
their is none reddy made, and I feare they will not 
be fynished before my departure hence. I have 
seene many fayre hangynges, and your L. may have 
all the prycesse, either iis, a styck, or vii grotes, 
iii*., iiii^., \s,, or vi*. the styck, even as your L. 
will bestowe ; but there is of ys. the styck that is 
very fayre. But unless yo' L. send upp a mea- 
sure of what depthe and bredthe you wolde have 
them, surely they will not be to yo"" L/s lykynge ; 
for the moste of them are very shallow, and I have 
yet seene none that I thynke depe inoughe for a 
great chamber, but for lodgynges." [Not deepenough 
for a state room, but fit for common apartments.] 

" I have had some talke w**" my L. of Lecester 
synce my commynge, whom I finde moste assuredly 
well affected towards yo' L. and yo". I never 
knew man in my lyfe more joyftdl for their frende 
than he at my Ladyes noble and wyse governmet 
ofheraealfe at her late beinge here; saynge that 
he heartely thanked God of so good a frende and 
kynseman of yo' L. and that you are matched w*^ 
80 noble and good a wyfe^ 



As a proof of the favour of the parties at this 
date, amongst the new-year's gifts from the Queen 
to the different nobility, 1577-8, are recorded : — 

** To th'erle of Shrewesbury, a booke of silver 
and guilte, with a cover. Keele,* per oz. 30 oz. 

• These are probably jewellers' names. 



74 EMINENT ENGLISH WOMEN, 

" To the Countes of Shrewesbmy, a book of silver 
and guilte. Brandon, per oz. 30 oz. 3 gr/' 

Amongst those to Queen Elizabeth, the same year, 
is: — 

" By the Countes of Shrewesbury, a gowne of 
white sattin, leyed on with pasmane of golde, the 
vemewyse, lyned with strawe-collored sarceonet. 
" Dehvered to Rauf Hoope." 

"On JanM, 1578-9. 

"By the C. of S. a mantyll of tawny satten, 
embrawdred with a border of Venice golde and 
silver, lyned with white taphata and faced with 
white satten/' 

"Jann, 1599-1600. 

" By the Barrones Arhella one skarfe or head- 
vaile of lawne cutworke, florished with silver and 
silke of sondry colors.'' 



The following extract from a letter of Gilbert 
Talbot's is very characteristic : — 

"1578, 3rd May. 

" I happened," says he, *^ to walke in the Tylte- 
yarde mider the gallary where her Ma**® usethe to 
stande to see the run ing at tylte ; whereby chaunce 
she was, and lookinge oute of the wyndowe, my eye 
was fuU towards her, and she shewed to be greatly 
ashamed thereof, for that she was mu:eddy, and in 



COUNTESS OF SHBJBWSBUBY. 75 

her nightstuflFe ; so when she sawr me after dynner, 
as she went to walke she gave me a great jphylwpp 
on the forehead, and tould my L. Ghamberla^ne, 
who was the next to her, how I had seen her that 
momynge, and howe much ashamed thereof she 
was. And after I presented nnto her the remem- 
brans of yom* L. and my La" bounden duty and 
s'vis: and sayde y* you bothe thoughte yo'selves 
moste bounden to her for her moste grasious delynge' 
towards yo' daughter, my La. of Lennoxe : and y* 
you assuredly trusted in the continuans of her favo- 
rable goodnes to her and her daughter. And she 
answered that she allwayes founde you more thanke- 
full than she gave cause ; so without saying any 
more thereof, asked of bothe your healthes, and so 
wente on and spake to others.*' 



It is not a little strange to remark on all occa- 
sions, how full of coquetry and vanity was the 
wise Queen whose fiat decided the fate of Europe. 
Anything approaching to admiration of her person 
at once gained her attention, and tl^ appearance of 
devotion was sure to attract her friendship. It 
would seem that the son of the Earl of Shrewsbury 
had been some time at Court without having by 
any fortunate accident drawn upon him her regard ; 
no report of good qualities would probably have 
caused her to notice him, whatever good looks might 
have done ; but it was sufficient that she imagined 



76 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

her person had excited his anxious admiration, to 

make her treat him at once with pleased famiUarity 

and kindness. The young man seems -deUghted 

with the good fortune Ukely to dawn upon him, and 

writes to his father in great spirits, recounting his 

adventure, which was one pecuUarly Kkely to give 

satisfaction to the vain Queen, who, of course, did 

not attribute the earnest gaze she surprised to mere 

chance : but pictured to herself an enamoured youth 

who had, perhaps, stationed himself day after day 

beneath her window, fondly hoping that the goddess 

of his adoration would at length appear and bless 

his longing eyes. The start and blush, and probable 

confusion she must have observed in him when he 

found that he had intruded into precincts hallowed 

by the presence of her Majesty, were mistaken by 

her for terror at being discovered by the object of 

his flame, while in secret offering up his prayers at 

her shrine ; and a series of flirtations, more worthy 

of some ' light o' love,' than a grave severe monarch, 

ensues. She giggles, blushes, screams, pretends to 

be in great agitation, is shocked to death at being 

detected in an undress, which she nevertheless trusts 

is becoming — ^tries to escape, and has hardly courage 

to quit the casement beneath which kneels, with his 

hand on his heart, and his eyes suddenly bent on the 

ground, the enslaved culprit. She retires, and, of 

course, immediately inquires who the young man is 

who thus evidently steals at early morning towards 

the place she inhabits, only existing in the hope 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 77 

that she, his sun, will rise and shine upon him, 
though but for an instant, he unseen. There would 
not be wanting waiting-ladies enough to encourage 
this agreeable delusion, and the gratified dupe thinks 
herself happy in adding another hopeless adorer to 
her train. 

They meet again, and then comes the triumph of 
her vanity ; she coquettes with the bashful stranger, 
makes him a mark to all, and then recounts to her 
ministers her adventure of the morning, amidst 
feigned confusion, blushes, and pretty hesitations. 
Could this be the harsh, cold, unfeeling woman, 
who at that moment knew her wretched and lovely 
prisoner was suffering every privation in the custody 
of that young man's father ! His name alone should 
have roused her remorse, if not her pity, and checked 
the unseemly levity of her deportment. The image 
of Mary should have risen before her, shivering with 
cold, shrinking from the harsh winds of the North, 
in a dilapidated tower, the walls of which streamed 
with damp, in a bleak desolate spot where no May 
flowers gladdened the heart with a promise of hope 
and summer-days to come ; where no eyes gazed on 
that beauty which had enslaved the gayest Court in 
Europe ; where not a kind word, a gentle look 
cheered the utter horror of her sohtude, and where 
even necessaries were denied her. The sun of May 
shone not on the towers of gloomy, ruined Tutbury, 
where Mary wept ; but Elizabeth could smile, and 
flirt, and render herself ridiculous with her jailor's 
son ! 



78 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

By this it is apparent how the whole family dwelt 
upon the smiles of the capricious and tyrannical 
Queen ; who now was all graciousness, and, anon, 
at the sUghtest suspicion aroused, all severity, with 
every one of her servants. Gilbert Talbot, who at this 
time seems on good terms with his father, writes 
further, in a postscript : — " There is eleven Fryse- 
land horsses, of a reasonable pryce for theyr good- 
nes. I have p'msed the fellow for them 33 pounds : 
I thynk them espetiall good for my La. cooche. 
I wiU send them doune, and if y' L, lyke them 
will repaye Bawdwyne the money agayne." 

In another letter of the same date, Gilbert Talbot, 
after telliQg a variety of gossip of the court— of which 
his epistles are always amusingly full — and many 
domestic particulars respecting his wife, the daugh- 
ter of the countess, adds, in a postscript : — *' My L. 
my brother tanyeth onely for her W^^ letter to my 
Lady, which she saythe she wUl wryte in her owne 
hande, so as no boddy shalbe acquaynted with a 
worde therein tyU my Lady receave it : I have not 
scene her loke better a great whyle, nether better 
disposed ; the lyvyinge God longe contynew it.'' 

The fears and suspicions of lord Leicester of 
differences existing in the family, expressed to Gil- 
bert Talbot, and his exclamations of terror lest the 
Queen should share them, are singular, and show 
the pertmrbed state of Elizabeth's mind, and how 
she must have been continually agonized with 
anxiety respecting her captive. Leicester, on occa- 



COUNTESS OP SHRJEWSBURT. 79 

sion of some accusations brought by the Earl's 
tenants^ recommends the affair, right or wrong, to 
be hushed up for fear of too much plain speaJdng 
alarming her Majesty. " It has/' said he, " been 
reported already, bothe to the Q. and others, 
that there was a secrete divysion betwyxt my lord 
and my ladye, and if it were knowne, I vereley 
beleave the same hath now been informed ; and it is 
not long synce I harde it, when I am asstffed that 
there was never any suche thinge ; but, by the eter- 
naU God, if they could ever bringe the Q, to beleave 
it, that there were jarres betwyxe them, she wolde 
be in suche a feare as it wolde sooner be the cause 
of the removyinge of my L. charge than any other 
thing; for I thinke verely she wolde never slepe 
quyettly after, as longe as that Q remayned w* 
them." 

It must have been very gaUing to the pride of 
the haughty countess, that, when she condescended 
to apply to Lady Burghley for her interest with the 
Queen that she might be permitted to quit her 
office of jailor for a time, and go from Sheffield to 
Chatsworth, and Buxton, it was signified to her, 
that, to prefer such a request would greatly offend 
her Majesty ; and it could scarcely be with a very 
good grace that the earl wrote to Lord Burghley 
to apologize for the expressed wish, and to assure 
him that his wife had given up the idea altogether, 
as in duty bound. He so far forgets his gallantry 
and respect at this time, as, in his letters,, to com^ 



80 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

plain of the expense and trouble he is put to " by 
keepyng this woman ;" or it may be that he was 
advised by his more cunning helpmate to assume 
an appearance of disrespect towards the ill-fated 
Mary, in order to convince Queen Elizabeth that 
he had no leaning towards his prisoner. This sub- 
mission, it seems, had the desired effect; for it 
appears that, soon after, the prisoner and her jailors 
were permitted to go to Buxton for Mary's health, 
which suffered greatly, as well as that of several of 
her attendants. 

About this time the mother of the " little jewels' 
who was the object of the tenderest care to the 
countess all the rest of her life, was snatched from 
her, while poor Arabella was yet in her infancy. 
The earl announces the event of her death in the 
foUowing terms:— 

" My Very Good Lorde. It hath pleased God 
to call to his mercy owtt of this transitore world my 
daughter Lennoux, this present sondaie, being the 
21. of Jan. about three of the clock in the morning. 
Bothe towards God and the worlde she made a 
most godlie and good ende, and was in most perfecte 
memorie all the tyme of her sycknesse, even to thys 
last houer. Sondrye times did she make her most 
earnest and humble prayer to the Almighty for H. 
Ma**~ most happy estate and the long and prosper- 
ous continuance thereof; and as one most infinitely 
bounden to her Highness, humble and lowlye 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 81 

beseched H. M. to have pyttie ujppon her poore 
Orphantt Arbella Stewarde, and as at all tymes here- 
tofore ; bothe the mother and poore daughter was 
most infinitely bound to H. M. so her assured trust 
was that H. M . would contynewe the same accus- 
tomed goodnes and bounty to the poore chylde she 
leffi, and of this her suit and humble petition my said 
daughter Lennoux, by her last will and testament, 
requireth both y' Lo. to whom she found and ac- 
knowledged herself always most bound, in her 
name most lowly to make this humble peticion to 
her M^ and to present with all humilitie a poore 
remembrance (deUvered by my daughter's own 
hands) w'* .very shortlie will be sent with my 
daughter's himable prayer for her highness most 
happie estate, and most lowly beseeching her M'' in 
such sorte to accept thereof as it pleased tit Almighty 
to receive the poore Widowes mite (!) 

" My wyflfe taketh my daughter Lennox deathe 
so grievously that she neither dothe nor can thinke 
of any thinge but of lamenting and wepinge. I 
thought it my part to signifie to bothe y' L's in, 
what sorte God had called her to his mercye, which 
I beseech you to make known to Her M'^ ; and thus 
with my verrye hartie comendacions to bothe your 
good Ldps I ceasse. 

"Sheffeilde Mannor this 21 Jan. 1581-2. 

Shrewsbury. 

To Lord Burghley and Lord Leicester !' 

VOL. I. G 



82 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

This letter was followed up by one from the 
countess herself, in behalf of her orphan grand- 
child. 

THE COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUKY TO LORD BURGHLET, 
THAT THE LADY ARABELLA MAY HAVE THE LANDS 
WHICH WERE ASSIGNED TO THE LATE COUNTESS OF 
LENOX, HER MOTHER. A.D. 1581-2.* 

" My honorabil good Lord, your Lordship hath 
harde by my Lo. howe y* hathe pleased God to visit 
me ; but in what sortt soever his pleasure is to laye 
his hevye hand on us we must take ytt thankefullie. 
It is good reason his hollye will shoulde be obeyed. 
My honorable good Lo. I shall not nede here to 
make longe resitall to your Lo. howe that in all 
my greatest matters I have beene singulareUe 
bounde to your Lo. for your Lo. good and espe- 
ciall favour to me, and howe muche your Lo. 
did bynde me, the pore woman that is gone, and 
my swete Jewell ArbeUa, at our laste meeting at 
Courte, neither the mother during her lyflfe, nor can 
I ever forgett, but most thankeftilhe acknowledge 
itt ; and so I am well assured will the yonge babe 
when her ryper yeres will suffer her to knowe her 
best frendes. And now my good Lo. I hope her 
Majestic, upon my moste humble suitt, will lett that 
portion which her Ma*** bestowed on my doughter 
and Jewell Arbella, remayne wholie to the childe for 

* From Ellis's Original Letters. Ed. 1827. vol iii. p. 62—64. 
Lansdowne MS. Art. IL orig. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 83 

her better education. Her servaunts that are to 
loke to her, her masters that are to trayne her upp 
in all good leaminge and vertue, will require no 
small charges ; wherefore my eameste request to 
your Lo. ys so to reconunend this my humble suite 
to her Majestic as ytt maie sonest and easiest take 
effect ; and I beseeche your Lo. to gyve my sonne 
William Cavendish leave to attend on your Lo. 
about this matter. And so referringe myself, my 
swete Jewell Arbella, and the whole matter to your 
honorable and frendlie consideration, I take my 
leave of your Lo. besechinge your Lo. to pardon me 
for that I am not able to wryte to your Lo. with my 
owne hande. Sheffeild, this xxviij. Januarye. 

Your L. most assuryd * 

lovynge frend 

E. Shrouesbury. 
To the rightt honorable my verry good Lorde, the 
Lo, Burghley, Lo, Tremoror of England''* 



Though, during this season of affliction, the earl 
seems f o have shown the most affectionate sympathy 
towards his wife, yet, very soon after, their dif- 
ferences, from whatever cause they might arise, ap- 
pear to assume a serious character, and in their 
future years, nothing but bickerings, annoyances, 
and cruel reproaches occur throughout their letters. 
The earl was no doubt in:itated and vexed at the 

* The signature only of this letter \» io th? comjte3e'9 hand- 
wvitiog. 

G 2 



84 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN . 

charge and trouble imposed on him by the care of 
Queen Mary, and he discovered that his services 
were by no means Ught. He could scarcely give 
satisfaction by any conduct he might pursue ; some- 
times he was accused of too much leniency, some- 
times of too Uttle. He had to endure the suspicions 
of Elizabeth, the dictation of her ministers, the 
indignation and complaints of the unfortunate cap- 
tive, the jealousies of his own and his wife's 
children, and the imperious and soured temper of 
the countess. 

He was a free agent in no one particular; he 
dared not move from one of his numerous dwell- 
ings to another without entreaty, and all he did was 
, done by favour. He writes to one of the ministers, 
while his son's wife is confined at Chatsworth, thus, 
evidently showing the discomfort to which he was 
subject: 



THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO 



" Touching the remove of my charge to Chats- 
worth, which I perceive her M'' hath no lyking off 
she sy be there, my d' Talbot being so nere her, 
lyeing in child bed. Besides, it seems her M. hath 
no lykinge our children sh* be with us, where this Q. 
is, that sholdbe our most comfort to direct them for 
our causes, which is a great grief to us. Therefore 
I pray you, if you shall not think it wilbe offense to 
H. M^ at y' good leisure to move her Highnes that 
I may have lybarty to goo to Chatsworth, to sweten 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 86 

my homey and that my children may come to me with 
her M^' favour without offence or myslyking of her 
M^ whare I thinke good, els they shall not enter wth" 
my dores," &c. 



It is a matter of great surprise, that, during the 
whole time Lord Shrewsbury had the charge of 
Queen Mary, Elizabeth was continually withholding 
from him the money allowed for her maintenance ; 
and he is obKged on many occasions to sue first to 
one minister then to another, and to the Queen her- 
self, to obtain his just dues. Probably she feared to 
place too large a sum in his hands, as it might have 
assisted some plot or design in favour of her rival ; 
for it is evident she was far from placing impUcit 
confidence in him : and, to keep him in check, she 
made a point of siding with those who were his 
enemies, listening to the complaints of his discon- 
tented tenants, and espousing the cause of his coun- 
tess when their disputes became no longer a secret. 
Her poUcy is always sufficiently crooked ; but this, 
in particular, is difficult to understand, as it would 
seem natural that she should desire to attach the 
earl to her interests by every liberaUty she could 
devise. 

Instead of this the earl seems to have, for a series 
of years, been straitened in every way in his allow- 
ances; and letter after letter he addresses, use- 
lessly entreating that his claims may be attended to 
and his arrears paid. All the notice taken of his 



86 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

applications is reproof — not the most delicate — 
for his purchasing of land, and hints of his great 
riches, which he is told her Majesty hears of 
with no very benevolent feeling, as it is considered 
strange how he can afford to become possessor 
of so many domains. Again he is reproached 
with having diminished the entertainment of the 
Queen of Scots, alleging his poverty as the cause, 
to which no remedy is allowed, but he is ordered to 
beware how he ventures to act in a manner to cast 
dishonour on her Majesty.* To all this he is 
obhged to reply with the deepest humility, with 
entreaties to be forgiven, assurances of fidelity, and 
promises for the future ; but, in the mean time, no 
money is forthcoming, and the Queen increases 
in suspicion and severity. 

In writing to his man of business, Bawdewyn, the 
earl does not conceal his vexation ; and in a post- 
script of one letter, he shows his opinion of the 
state of surveillance in which it is thought necessary 
to keep him. " I have been movyd to tak my Lade' 
Lynoxe' men, but specyally Nelson and his wyf, and 
have refused them : / have so Tnany spies in my 

• From Lord Leicester :— " My Lo. there ys an other report 
which I understand is come from the Embassador here by way 
of complaynt against y' L. which I know will much myslyke 
her Matie that ys y' L. doth of late kepe the Sco. Q. very 
barely Tor her dyett, in so much as uppon Easter Day last she 
had both so few dyshes and so badd meate in them, as it was 
too badd to see yt And that she finding fault thereatt, your L. 
should answere that you wer cutt off of y' allowance, and there- 
fore c* yeald her no better," &c. 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 87 

home alreddy^ and mynde to make choyce of othars 
I may trust." 

Poor Lord Shrewsbury pours out his annoy- 
ances to this hiunble friend, no doubt feeling that 
he has few others to whom it would be safe to 
speak his mind. " I have/' he says, alluding to 
certain malicious talkers, " been greatly abused with 
them, and my riches they talk of is in othar men's 
purses ; God knows I mak many shiftes to kepe me 
out of dett, and to helpe my chyldren, wyche are 
hevy burdens, thowe comfortabell so long as they do 
well. I can say no more,» but that I have spyes nere 
about me and knowes them well. If they sayd truly 
I could better endure it. Lyttell sayd is sone amendyd 
and so I ende. Sheffeld this 12 of July 1582." 

One of these spies was his former chaplain. Corker, 
who, combining with another clergyman named 
Haworth, had for some time past been spreading 
abroad spiteful reports of his patron, justly, it seems, 
meriting the appellation Lord Shrewsbury gives him 
of " that wicked serpent Corker ^ This man was 
evidently too much listened to by his jealous mistress, 
and very probably by M? equally jealous wife — 
although Queen Elizabeth professes not to have 
given credit to his calumnies relative to the earl's 
inclination to favour Mary, or his reported speeches 
against herseK. The petty gossip against which the 
persecuted nobleman is obliged to defend himself, 
must have caused him the greatest annoyance : it 
was strangely beneath the dignity of so great a 



88 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

queen to have given ear to such accusations as the 
following, and to make it necessary for a man of 
his rank and honour to prove and explain on the 
occasion. The Queen having caused a man to be 
apprehended who had sought her life, and having 
remarked to the earl how wonderfully God had ever 
preserved her from such attempts, " Now," says 
the earl to Sir Francis Walsingham, " this wicked 
serpent Corker added, that thereupon I should infer 
and say y* her Ma*'® thought herself a goddess, 
y* colde not be touched with the handes of men : 
whereas I never uttered any suche thynge, nether 
any whit more than her Ma*^®^ owne sacred mouth 
p^nounced unto me, the w^ I uttered to him as a 
profe of God's mercifull p^vydence over her, and 
that false addition p'ceded only oute of his moste 
wyked hedd and perelous invencion. And for so 
muche as I sayde to him, I hope that I nether dis- 
covered secrete nor bewrayed any unfitte thinge; 
and yet this did so synke into her Ma*^®* concejrpte 
against me, as I verely thynk it hath bene the 
grettest cause of her indignacion." He humbly on 
his knees then entreats the Queen to " beholde him 
with the swete eyes of her compassion :" but it does 
not appear, though occasionally she sends him a 
few civil speeches, that his just demands excited her 
attention further than to convince her that he was 
as much in her power as she conceived it necessary 
for her purpose. 

To add to the vexations which his charge brought 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 89 

thus upon him, a violent breach with the countess 
took place about this time ; and that son who 
seemed so happy hitherto with his father, together 
with his wife, the countess's daughter, all joined 
against him, and filled his remaining years with 
wretchedness and discontent. 

Whether jealousy or ambition caused this faUing 
off, on the part of the Countess of Shrewsbury, 
does not appear; but it is evident that Queen 
EUzabeth was not sorry to have his family on her 
side against him. If she had really suspected him 
of treason, in showing too much lenity to Mary 
Stuart, it is reasonable to suppose that she would 
have placed her prisoner in other guardianship ; but 
this she does not seem to have ever entertained a 
thought of doing: her conduct is, therefore, the 
more inexpUcable. That Shrewsbury was deeply 
offended and violently irritated, appears by the 
following letter, dated August 8th, 1584,* to the 
Earl of Leicester, in reference to dissensions between 
himself and his son, Gilbert Talbot, in which he 
says : — 

"For my sonne, I never dissuaded him from 
loving his v^^fe, thowe he hath sayd he must ethar 
forsake me or hate his wyfe ; this he gyves out, 
whych is false and untrew. This I thynk is his 
duty : that, seinge I have forbyd him for coming to 

* Talbot Papers, VoL G. fol. 257. Quoted by Lodge, vol. ii. 
p. 293. 



90 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

my vyyked and malym/otis loyfe^ who hath set me at 
nought in his own hering, that, contrar to my 
conTandement, hathe bothe gone and sent unto her 
daly by his wyfe's jTswayson, yea and hath both 
wrytten and carryed lettars to no mene p sonages in 
my wyfe's behalf. These ill delyngs wold he have 
salved by indirect reportes, for in my lyfe dyd I 
nevar seyke ther separac'on : for the best weyes I 
have to content myseK is to thynk it is his wyfe's 
wyked p'swayson, and her mother's togedar, for I 
thynk nethar harrell bettar hering of them bothe, 
Thys my mysliking to them bothe argues not that I 
wold have my sonne make so hard a constructyon 
of me, that I wold have him hate his wyfe, tho I 
doo deteste her mothar. But to be plane, he shall 
ethar leve his indirect delyngs with my wyfe, aeing 
I take her as myprofessed enemy ^ or else indede 
wyll I doo that to him I wold be lothe, seing I have 
heretofore lovyd him so well. * * * " 



At length, the Countess of Shrewsbury, aban- 
doning all care of appearances, sets herself in 
battle array against her husband, makes claims to 
which he vdll not agree, takes possession of lands 
which he disputes, and involves him and herself in 
all the labyrinths of the law. Determined to secure 
all power on her side, she endeavoured to propitiate 
Queen Elizabeth, who was not sorry to enlist her 
in her service, to the annoyance of her lord. It 
was, probably, in the height of resentment for some 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 91 

supposed injury, that when the Queen inquired of 
her how their prisoner fared, she made the answer 
which raised so great a flame : " Madam, she cannot 
do ill while she is with my husband ; and I begin 
to grow jealous, they are so great together." 

Whether there was any foundation or not for 
this unbecoming speech, the earl never forgave it ; 
and from henceforth they were determined enemies. 
It is not impossible that Queen Mary, accustomed 
to admiration, and aware of the power of her 
fascinating manners, might have exerted all the 
charms of her conversation to aid her beauty, 
in order to win the earl's compassion; and, as 
he was evidently sensible to female attractions, as 
he had proved in his bUnd devotion to his wife, 
there is nothing unnatural in supposing that he 
was weak enough to allow his heart to be touched 
by his interesting prisoner. The enemies of Mary 
did not, at the time, hesitate to magnify the 
familiarity which existed between them, and a 
thousand injurious reports were circulated to the 
dishonour of the unfortunate Queen, who was a 
mark for every calumny and cruelty that could be 
invented. Mary writes thus on the subject : — 

THE QUEEN OF SCOTS TO M. DE MAUVISSIERE. 

FEB. 26, 1584. 

" I have twice informed you minutely of the scan- 
dalous reports which have been circulated of my 
intimacy with the Earl of Shrewsbury ; these have 



92 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

originated with no one but hia good lady herself. 
If the Queen of England does not have this 
calumny cleared up, I shall be obliged openly 
to attack the Countess of Shrewsbury herself. I 
have been restrained by two reasons from making 
use of the advantages I have over her, whenever 
I choose to make known to the Queen of England 
and her councillors how she has behaved to me 
regarding the Earl of Leicester, and other noblemen 
in this kingdom. 

" * * If I accuse the wretched woman of the 
various arrogant speeches and intrigues against the 
Queen EUzabeth, myself, and some of the nobility 
of this realm, I apprehend lest her husband may 
be injured ; besides, I might be strangely reflected 
on for listening to such particulars. Altogether, I 
am afraid lest those who disclosed them to me, if 
not called to account, may remain objects of suspi- 
cion, yet, whatever may befal, there is nothing that 
I would not venture to clear my honour, which, to 
say nothing of my exalted station, is more precious 
to me than a thousand Uves. 

"Most earnestly I entreat you to pursue, dili- 
gently, all means to extirpate this infamous calumny, 
that I may obtain full satisfaction by public notice 
throughout the whole kingdom (which you are espe- 
cially to insist on) or by the exemplary pimishment 
of the authors of the scandal. Should you be called 
upon to name these, answer ' Charles and William 
Cavendish, incited thereto by the Countess of Shrews- 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 93 

bury/ or require at least that they may be examined 
on the matter. 

" * * * * All this confusion originates with 
Leicester and Walsingham, who, as I have been 
informed for a certainty, sent the Countess of 
Shrewsbury a copy of some lost letters which I had 
written to you. 

" It may not be unadvisable to complain to the 
Queen as if you had learned these matters elsewhere, 
that the Countess of Shrewsbury is the enemy who 
has raised these false and scandalous tales, and that 
she is secretly instructed and supported by men who, 
were it only for the honour of the Queen herself, 
as my near relative, ought to uphold mine no less 
than her own. For I cannot govern my aflPairs 
myself in a state of restraint as if I had the Uberty 
of speaking and acting. 

" * * The Earl of Shrewsbury, I understand, is 
more than ever resolved to visit the Court in order 
to enquire into the accusations of his enemies : 
I doubt not he will prove his innocence to their 
confusion and to his own honour.*'* 



That the Countess of Shrewsbury, from the time 
of the birth of her grandaughter, Arabella, changed 
her policy towards Queen Mary, there can be little 
doubt, as the Queen of Scots' long captivity, and 
the frequent failures of plots in her favour, had begun 

* See Miss Strickland's Letters of Mary Stuart, MS. Harl. 1582. 



04 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

to weary those who expected to gain by her success. 
The birth of another heir to the crown opened a 
new field for her ambition, and from that moment 
she bent all her energies to the securing her title to 
the infant aspirant. At the same time, there is as 
Uttle doubt that Mary, who well knew the power of 
her charms and fascinations, was not likely to spare 
their attractions to soften the heart of her jailer,- 
and though there is no likelihood of her encouraging 
any improper regard that Lord Shrewsbury might 
manifest towards her, had such ever existed; yet, 
observing his pity and sorrow for the harshness with 
which he was compelled to treat her, she would 
scarcely have failed to exert every art in her own 
favour. Her beauty, her grace, and their effects, 
might, therefore, have, naturally enough, raised 
some feehngs of jealousy in the mind of the coun^ 
tess, which, combined with the causes, made her 
an enemy. If it had not been so, there seems little 
reason why the earl himself should have been made 
a victim to her displeasure; and that he was so 
it is too plainly proved." 

In another letter of Mary to Mauvissiere, she 
continues the subject thus : — 

" I entreat that you wiQ more distinctly show to 
Queen ' Elizabeth the treachery of my honorable 
hostess, the Countess of Shrewsbury. I would wish 
you to mention, privately, to the Queen, that nothing 
has alienated the countess from me but the vain 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUET. 95 

hope she has conceived of setting the crown of 
England on the head of her little girl, Arabella ; and 
this by means of marrying her to a son of the Earl 
of Leicester. These children are also educated in 
this idea, and their portraits have been sent to each 
other.* But for the notion of raising one of her 
descendants to the rank of Queen, she would never 
have been so turned away from me ; for she was 
so entirely bound to me, and, regardless of any 
other duty or regard, that if God himself had been 
her Queen she could not have shown more devotion 
than to me.f Say to the Queen, that you heard 
from M"* Seton, who went to France last sum- 
mer, that I was given a solemn promise from 
the Countess of Shrewsbury, that if ever my hfe 
should be in danger, or orders given to remove me 
to another place, she would find means for my 
escape ; and, being a woman, she should easily 

* Perhaps the portrait of Arabella, with a doll, is the one 
alluded to. 

t Whitaker says that when Queen Elizabeth was very ill, the 
Countess of Shrewsbury had arranged with her son, who resided 
in London for the purpose, to have two good able horses always 
ready, that he might start off the moment the Queen died, to let 
the Queen of Scots know the event. " And," he adds, " had this not 
improbable event actually taken place, what a different complexion 
would our history have assumed from what it wears at present. 
Mary would have been carried from a prison to a throne. Her 
wise conduct in prison would have been applauded by all. From 
Sheffield, Chatsworth, and Tutbury, she would have been said to 
have touched, with a gentle and masterly hand, the springs that 
actuated all the nation against the death of her tyrannical cousin.'* 

If this is indeed the fact, the countess stood in a most dangerous 
predicament ; but, doubtless, she had art enough to give another 
colouring of her anxiety to the jealous Queen. 



96 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

avoid all peril of punishment. That her son, Charles 
Cavendish, she assured me in his presence, resided 
for no other purpose in London, but t6 acquaint 
me vdth every thing that passed there ; and that 
he had constantly two swift horses ready to com- 
municate to me, as soon as it occurred, the death of 
Queen Elizabeth, who was at that time ill. 

" * * The countess, as well as her son, 
Charles Cavendish, at that time took all possible 
pains to convince me that, in the hands of her hus- 
band, the Earl of Shrewsbury, I was in the greatest 
possible danger, for he would dehver me into the 
hands of my enemies and suffer them to surprise 
me : so that I should be in a very bad condition 
without the aid of the said countess. * * Say 
to the Queen that you are firmly persuaded that 
the Countess of Shrewsbury could be gained by 
me whenever I pleased with a bribe of two thou- 
sand crowns.'' 

Instead of this application succeeding, as the 
captive Queen anticipated, her letter fell into the 
hands of her enemies, and probably hastened the 
change which soon afterwards occurred; for the 
Earl of Shrewsbury relinquished, or was compelled 
to relinquish, his charge, and others were set over 
her from whom she had no hope whatever, and 
whose chief recommendation was sternness and 
ferocity of manner, and an absence of all tender- 
ness or consideration. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 97 

By Sir John Somers' letters, it would seem that 
but little care for her comfort occupied any who 
surrounded her. There is a question about retain- 
ing an old coachman who had been in Lord Shrews- 
bury's service for twenty-eight years, and had been 
accustomed to attend to Queen Mary's accommo- 
dation on her journeys. " So far," says the writer, 
" as I can perceive by this Q. by her speeches to 
me at other tymes synce o* coming hith', she is lothe 
to part with him because he is well practised vrith 
her horses and cotche, swearing by God that he 
never did any other service then about the same, 
for she perceaved perhaps that he might be mis- 
trusted. We heare not yet any more of anjr other 
cocheman to come from above, only when we were 
at Wingfield it was written by Mr. Secretary that 
one shulbe sent. * * 

" My lord St. John, being ready to come hither, 
fell soddenly into a feevre * * which, together 
with the loss of an onely sonne, happening even.then, 
hath gotten his release from this charge ; and now 
we heare that Sir Amyas Paulett is appointed, and 
is hastened hither so soon as conveniently he can 
come; but poore I am lyke to tarry by it yet 
awhile after Mr. Chaunceller. This lady, beiny 
fallen into her old acheSy hath kept her bed this five 
or six days. Tutbuiy Castle. Feb. 25, 1584." 



The Earl of Shrewsbury, though relieved from his 
painful duty, continued to be perpetually harassed 

VOL. I. H 



98 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

by his wife's proceedings, and annoyed by the 
indignities offered him, encouraged by the Queen 
who appears quite ready to uphold her. After 
sixteen years of vexatious obedience to the caprice 
and cruelty of his jealous mistress, he was dis- 
missed without his pecttniary demands being satis- 
fied, as his complaining letter to Lord Leicester 
sets forth : " as," he says, " her Ma*^® doth demand 
and looke for at my hands faith and dew obedience, 
as is the duty of every good subject; to spend landes 
-and lief in the defence of her Ma*^®* p'son and 
,realme, which I and my ancestors have done and 
am ready at her Highnes's conTandement; so, for 
the mayntenance of my honour and credit do I 
claime and demaunde of her M***' justice and benefit 
of her lawes never denied by her Ma***,. nor by any 
her noble progenitors, to any the menest her subject 
before this, yet, not doubting but that hear M**® wiQ 
have better considertTcion of me and my cause, 
when she hathe thorowly weyed of it ; and that if she, 
for all my carefull and paynefull service to my great 
charges above my allowance, in the keeping of that 
Ladie for sixteen years last past, with the extraordi- 
nary chardges and expense of H. M***' Comysioners 
sent dowen as of S' Walter Myldmay, Mr Beale, 
and S' Rafe Sadler, and others, their horse and men, 
for SQ long tyme as they contjmued with me, will 
bestow nothing of me, yet I ever thought she wolde 
have left me with that her Ma**®" lawes had given 
me. Sith that her M"* hathe sette dowen this hard 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 99 

sentence agaynst me to my perpetuall infamy and 
dishonour to he ruled and overranne by my wiefy so 
bad and wicked a woman; yet her Ma""* shall see 
that I will obey her conTandement, thoughe no 
curse or plage in the erth cold be more grevous to 
me. ' These offers of my wiefe's, inclosed in your 
le'®* I thinke them verey imfyt to be offered to me. 
It is to muche to make me my wief s pencyoner 
and sett me downe the demeanes of Chattesworth 
without the house and other landes leased which is 
but a peiicion in money : I thijike it standeth w**" 
reason that I shuld choose the five hundred pounds 
by yeare ordered, by her Ma"® where I like best 
accordinge to the rate Wm. Cavendish delyvered to 
my Lord Chanselor, or els I shall thinke myself 
dubly wronged which I am sure her Ma**® will not 
offer unto me : And thus I comit your good L. to 
the tuytyon of the Almightie," &c. 



This letter seems to have had some effect, as his 
son, Henry Talbot, writes to him that " your wife 
doth exclaim against my Lo. of Leicester because, 
as she sayeth, he has not been as good as his 
promise." The Queen, also, has the grace to feign 
anxiety and friendship for her old servant ; for the 
same writer reports that " she marvelleth she can 
heare nothinge from your Lo. and she useth the 
beste speeches that may b^ of your Lo." In this 
same letter is another proof how ready every one at 
Court was to prey upon the too easy earl ; for the 

H 2 



100 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

postscript, gives him " my lord Maire's hmnble 
dutie," who " sayeth he hopes your Lo" buckea be 
fatt this mmery 

Elizabeth still continued to cajole her ill-requited 
servant as long as she could, enquiring tenderiy after 
his health, and reproaching him for not writing to 
her. — "She marvelld," says Henry Talbot, "that 
she harde no oftener from you whom it pleased her 
to tearme her lovey declaring further what a trouble 
your sicknesse was unto her ; whereunto I.answered 
that your L.'s chefest comforte and speedie recoverie 
of your helthe proceeded from her M"*" soe gratious 
favor and countenance bestowed uppon you, whereat 
her M*^ smiled, saying, ' Talbott, I have not yet 
shewed imto him that favor which hereafter we 
meane to do.' " 

Thus, the wily Queen kept him in continual ex- 
pectation, without fulfilling the hopes she created, 
as she did throughout her life, in every transaction, 
pubHc and private, in which she was engaged. 
Meantime, the countess reinained in London, carry- 
ing on her own plans, and watching every oppor- 
tunity to take advantage of anything in, her own 
favour. Henry Talbot thus names her : — 

" As touching your wive*s causes, she lieth still 
in Chancerie Lane; and doeth give out that she 
meaneth to continewe there and not to goe into the 
country. My Lord, my brother's wife, and her 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 101 

brother the Knight (Sir Charles Cavendish) doe 
attende verie dihgently at Court, and Uttle respecte 
there is had of theme : neverthelesse they cease not 
to followe, to the ende the world may say they are 
in credit." 

While Elizabeth was putting on this face of friend- 
liness, she was listening to the countess's tales, 
and the latter was doing all in her power to vex her 
husband ; who thus writes to Lord Burghley : — 

" Since my cominge into the countrie my wief and 
her children hath not ceased to informe her M^ most 
sclanderotialie of me that I have broken her Highness* 
ordre, and at the lengthe they have obtained her 
gracious lettres and M' Secretary's to me, &c. * * 
my lord, she maketh all meanes she can to be with 
me and her children to have her lyvinge, whereunto 
I will never agree, for if I have the one I will have 
the other, which was thought reasonable by the Lord 
Chancellour and the L. of Leicester, but by her letters 
she desireth to come to me herselfe, but speaketh noe 
worde of her l3rvinge. I have bene moche troubled 
with her, and almost never quiet to satisfy her greedie 
appetite for monie to paie for her purchases to sett 
upp her children ; besides the danger I have lived in, 
to be compassed daily with those that moste ma- 
liciously hated me, that if I were oute of the waye 
presentlie they might be in my place. It were better 
we lyved as we doe, for in truth I cannot awaie with 
her children, but have them in jealousy : for till 



102 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Francis Talbot his death* she and her children 
sought my favoure; but since those times they 
have soughte for themselves and never for me/' &c. 

In another letter, he says : — 

"Persevyng what untrew surmyses hath and is 
daily invented by my wyfe and her children of me, 
and I thinke will be duiynge their lyves, I am there- 
fore to request your L. thus muche : that if they shall 
exclaim of me from tyme to tyme w%ut cause, as 
they doe, considering how manyfestly they have been 
dysproved in their accoimts, that they may make 
tryall of ther complentes agenst me before they be 
harde : and so shall hur M"® and her Councell be 
lesse trobeled w* thes untrew surmyses, and by the 
grace of God my doings and delyngs hath and shal- 
be such, as I wysh my wife and her impes, who I 
know to be my mortall enemys, might dely see into 
my doings, which I looke for no lesse butt they wyll 
doo ther best," &c. 



The . persecuted earl, sick in mind and body, 
repaired to his house at Chelsea, in order to appear 
before the Lord Chancellor respecting the suits at 
law with which his wife had encumbered him. 
While there, he was taken so ill that he was unable 
to attend to anything ; and when he was recovered 

* His eldest son in 1582^ 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 103 

enough to resume his cares, he wrote to Queen 
EKzabeth, stating the justice of his claims, and pro- 
claiming the arts of his countess to gain possession 
of his estates and revenues, for the benefit of her 
children. He plainly confesses that at their mar- 
riage he was weak enough to give her promises, which 
he, nevertheless, neither imagined nor feared that 
she would take advantage of ; as, of course, he did 
not intend that either she or her children were to 
dispossess him during his or her life. He farther 
urged his claims on her Majesty for the expenses of 
the Queen of Scots, complaining, for the hundredth 
time, of the inconvenience the non-payment subjected 
him to. 

It was injudicious in the earl to mention his two 
grievances together, for the last was by no means 
pleasant to the Queen, and probably decided her to 
take part against him. She wrote him rather a 
sharp letter, reproaching him for wishing to put 
away his wife for no faulty and of taking advantage 
of some informahty in law, by which he hoped to 
deprive her of her just dues, and to prevent her 
enjoying all that his former promises had led her to 
expect. She concludes by commanding him to be 
content with her award, which is, that he should 
receive a pittance of five hundred a year out of his 
own estates, and leave oflF troubling her or his wife. 
The earl, condemned to submit, writes thus to 
Walsingham and to his triumphant lady : 



104 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 



THE EAEL TO SECRETARY WALSINGHAM, DURING THE 
CAUSE PENDING BETWEEN HIM AND HIS WIFE. 

" Good Mr. Secretary, I perceive by your letters 
of the 3d of this instant that you have received an 
estimate or value of my wive's lands, sent you from 
my Lord Treasurer, which I deUvered him to the 
end her Majestic might be thoroughly informed 
thereof, as well of those lands she hath purchased 
since I married her, as of the lands and leases, which 
I claim no part of, which was not my gift, as also of 
those which are my own during my life by the laws 
of this realm, which by her I do possess as the lands 
of Barlow, Cavendish and St. Loes. It is my desire 
that the case may be agreed of by our councils, and 
that the judges may give their opinion of the right, 
which I will stand unto, &c. 

" Your letters do further import that her M^ doth 
pray me to pay to your hands the half-year's rent of 
the seized lands which I have received. I am not 
to disobey her Highness' command in anything, nor 
to yield my own inheritance, the matter being in 
question, to my enemy. I will not disquiet her of 
anything is hers, but, in all I may, will defend and 
maintain my right and innocent cause against her 
And her children. Her cause and mine are not 
equally to be balanced, and I doubt not but her 
M^ will so estieem of me and my right. * * * 



COUNTESS OP SHRBWSBURT. 105 

After her M^ hath well weighed my dealing towards 
my wife, and of her deserts towards me, I am 
assured," &c. &c. 



The following must have been written in a state 
of great excitement, and probably was received with 
corresponding anger : 

THE EARL TO THE COUNTESS. 

*' The offences and faults which you have com- 
mitted against me, which no good wife would do, 
are admonitions suflScient for all men to be advised 
in their marriage; and though you desire to be 
charged particularly to the end you may know 
your faults, I need not express them, they are mani- 
fest to the world : and if I would hide them, your 
behavior and conditions have laid them open. 
There cannot be any wife more forgetful of her 
duty and less careful to please her husband than 
you have been ; nor any more bounden, nor hath 
received greater benefits by her husband, than you. 
The particulars I will not express, but do leave them 
to the time that God will send you his grace to 
make you confess them. In that I loved you I 
did many good things for you, and was loath that 
the world should see your behavior. It may be 
judged that I would still so have continued, if you 
had not sought all means, l3oth at home and abroad, 
to offend me. There needs not many words, I have 



106 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

seen thoroughly into your devices and designs: 
your insatiable and greedy appetite did bewray 
you. Your own living at my hands would not 
content you, nor yet a great part of mine which 
for my quietness I would have been content to have 
given you. But this was short of the mark you 
shot at and yet do. Your fair words are no bait 
for me ; they have the show and taste they have 
had, and though they appear beautiful yet they are 
mixed with an hidden poison. But assure yourself 
I wiU avoid so near as I can my own harm, and 
am and will be pleased with her M^'" order, though 
it seemed hard ; for you best know that your hving 
was never meant for your children during my life, 
but, seeing it falls out so, you must be likewise con- 
tented with that for your maintenance and payment 
of your debts that her Majesty hath assigned, which 
is a great portion, and none of your calling hath 
the like. You charge me with an untruth that 
I do enter into your hving, meaning your children's, 
as it seemeth. I content myself with her Majesty's 
order, and intend to hold the £500 lands by year 
during our lives. You were ever in misery, but 
yet sufficiently furnished to buy lands for your 
children. Marry, you now want the help, and so 
shall do, that you sue, to pay for it. I enforce not 
your children to sell lands, but if your wilfulness 
and their pride be such as cannot be maintained 
without sale of your land, I do not rejoice at it, nor 
assuredly I am not sorry for it. I marvel to see 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 107 

your earnestness, as you pretend by your letters, 
to be with me : you cannot forget there were books 
drawn by our council, and about the agreement 
I did meet your children before the chancellor and 
the Lord of Leicester, and all your griefs were then 
recited, as weU the release of my suits commenced 
against your children and servants for my goods, 
and slanderous rumours spread by them of me in 
divers parts of this realm, for whom no good wife 
could open her mouth. 

" As for our cohabitation, with having all your 
living at my disposition during the same, and divers 
other things as by the books appears, to which I 
answered them as I wiU answer you : That if ever 
I think good to take you again, for you went away 
volimtarily, not turned away by me, (as you say, 
and when I sent for you, you said I should send twice 
for ere you would come,) I will have both together 
vnthout any exception or signification of your part 
or of mine. * * The malicious minds that your 
children do bear me I cannot away withall. It 
cannot be but you must favour your children ; there- 
fore how dangerous it were for me to be compassed 
about with you and them, where, after me, you 
shall leap into my seat, the most ignorant may 
judge. And here I end, protesting before the 
Almighty God that I do not this for any malice, 
but that in my old age I desire my security and 
quietness, and would not have it troubled during 
my life. Sheffield, 23 Oct. 1585." 



108 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The eaxl considered Secretary Walsingham a 
favourer of his wife's cause ; and the following shows 
his feehng on the subject: — 

'* Good M. Sec— I am glad to hear you will be 
shortly at the Court, where I hope to find you a 
favourer of justice. I know right weU you have 
favoured my wife hitherto in her cause, but, now 
that she hath so apparently manifested her devilish 
disposition in maintaining and defending her wicked 
servant, Berisford, in practising the utter ruin and 
destruction of myself, and defamation of my house 
and name, so long continued in honour and loyalty 
to our prince and country, by his false and detesta- 
ble speeches and bruits, whereof now he is convicted, 
and by law standeth condemned ; my trust is, that, 
as in honour and conscience you are bound, you 
will leave her to herself, and according to justice you 
will further my suit to her Majesty, that she may he 
punished as a procurer and maiatainer of the slan- 
ders and destruction of her husband, and to be ba- 
nished the Court as a woman not jit for that honor- 
able jplace. Sir, It may be that with her money she 
will buy friends at Court to speak in her behalf, but 
to them I wish no other revenge than to have such a 
wife. Sure I am that no man of honest fame can for 
shame speak for such a person, nor in such a cause, 
against the very law of nature. But of this no more ; 
I am grieved to speak and ashamed to think of my 
choice made of such a creature- 



J 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 109 

"Now, Sir, touching my son Gilbert Talbot, whom 
I know you love, and heartily thank you for it, I pray 
you advise him to leave that wicked woman's com- 
pany, who otherwise will be his destruction ; and 
teach him, I pray you, to know that, as God's bless- 
ing is upon those children that are obedient to their 
parents, so to the disobedient fallethhis curse, which 
God deliver him from : and I shall take as great 
joy of his reformation as was of that child whereof 
the scripture maketh mention. Thus, good Mr. 
Setf^, I seek nothing but justice, and in honour it 
ought not to be denied me in such a cause^ 
which, if it should go unpunished, the example 
were too perilous, for it may encourage other strong- 
hearted women to do the like; from which God 
deKver all good men and send you as well to do 

as I wish myself. 

Chelsey, 15th June, 1586." 



SECRETARY WALSINGHAM 8 ANSWER. 

" My very good lord, I have received your lord- 
ship's letter of y* 15'^ and whereas you pretend I 
have been a favourer of the countess, y' wife, against 
you, I can and do assure y' L. I never favoured her 
cause otherwise than stood with justice or did 
become an honest man to do, neither have or will 
I ever support any person or matter not agreeable 
to justice. 



110 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

"As for her servant, Berisford, I do likewise 
assure you, for thereof I can best testify, that for 
anything he deUvered to myself you had no just 
cause to be offended with him. Indeed, he informed 
me of the great assembly, but in such sort as he 
carried himself with a careful and dutiful respect to 
your honour, which unto me he no ways touched. 
What he hath said to others I know not; and 
touching his conviction, as you write, I must needs 
tell y' L^ship that I have heard the jury that have 
gone against him hath been hardly compounded, 
and it is no new matter in this time to find great 
partiality in jurors, who are too often compacted to 
serve turns. 

"Touching my Lord Talbot, your son, I have 
always and do still love him for the great good 
parts that are in him, for which cause your lord- 
ship hath reason to love him the more. And I am 
persuaded his wisdom and honesty to be such as he 
would not, in this or any other matter, offend you 
justly. But I am sorry this age and time hath so 
many ill disposed persons that study to make strife 
and division between man and wife, especially in the 
state of matrimony, between personages, of so great 
and honourable quality as you are of; and so hoping 
your lordship will conceive weD of me in this cause 
between you and my lady, your wife, wherein I nei- 
ther have nor will deal otherwise than honestly and 
justly, I take my leave. From the Court, 17 June 
1586. 



COUNTESS OF SHEBWSBUEY, 111 

^* Postscript. I hope y' L. doth not mean that I 
am one of the number of those that are drawn, in 
respect of money, to favour the countess your wife. 
I pray you so to conceive of me that you hold not 
your honour more dear than I do mine honesty. I 
dare avow it before all the world, that I have not 
dealt in the cause between your L. and your wife 
otherwise than becometh an honest man." 



TO THE QUEEN FROM LORD. SHREWSBURY, ON THE 
SAME SUBJECT. 

" My most gracious Sov. The greatness of the 
grief which I have conceived of certain unkindnesses 
oflTered unto me since my being at the Court, suf- 
fereth me not to take any rest, and unable to come 
to the Court sithence my mortaU enemy, Henry 
Berisford, who hath slandered me with such speeches 
as if they were true, as they are most false, were the 
utter overthrow of me and my house, and yet not 
only is the man liked and allowed of by my wife and, 
her children, but still doth countenance and main- 
tain him, and procure him g* favour at Court, and 
not anything dismayed to bring him to your M^' 
presence : and since that time hath repaired to my 
gates, and there in brave speeches did justify him- 
self against just trial in law, w^ I have h^ at the 
asizes at York last. Which his desperate attempt 



112 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

was done for no other purpose but of malice to 
provoke me and my men to commit some g* offence 
contrary to y' Mj*^'* laws, intending thereby to pro- 
cure y' M. indignation against me, to my utter 
undoing and overthrow, w'' their cunning device 
and enticement by the mighty power of God I have 
avoided; and have every day just cause to thank 
him that I have such men about me as, contrary to 
their minds at my commandment, did subdue their 
hearty affections borne unto me against sUch my 
mortal enemy, as did suffer him to pass from my 
gates without revenge. My most humble suit to 
y' M. is, that considering my wife is a woman wholly 
given to reoengey and to execute her malice of me 
and mine, and will not cease to travail therein with 
all earnestness and cunning at y' M. hands to seek 
my disgrace, but continually to study nothing else 
but to work my dishonour and overthrow ; that upon 
y' M. most abundant clemency, it may please you, 
in recompence of all my faithful and dutiful service, 
you will let me have y' M. lawe, w^ is the defence 
of y' realm and y' poor subjects, and suffer not me, 
a nobleman and councellor, to be abridged of that 
w^ the poorest subject in the land enjoyeth. And 
as by y' M. letters, writ on the 5, of March last, 
I rec* such comfort as of a dead man grown so 
feeble as no hopes was of my recovery ; yet the care 
that y' M. promised to have of my credit and honor 
as of y' own, hath thus far recovered me as I am by 
your benignity, and so doubt not but to continue, if 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 113 

the unkindness w^ you may show me do not strike 
me to the heart and bring me to a relapse. It may 
so happen then when y' Highness shall not find 
that service which you expect in my house, nor by 
the Cavendishes, you may call to y' princely remem- 
brance that y' unkindness hath destroyed a true 
nobleman, and such an one as hath most faithfully 
served you in all services : and then wish that you 
had further seen into the cunning devices of my 
malidouB enemy my wife, 

" And thus most humbly beseaching y' M. that 
sithens that she and her children continue their 
wicked devices and practices against me, it w* please 
y' H" so far to be my good and gracious lady as to 
leave us to y' lawes, and be indiflferent betwixt us 
till all matters in variance be decided ; for further 
than I have yielded to y' M. considering their late 
behavior towards me, I cannot be contented to yield 
myself or be pressed any further, nor ever w^ have 
yielded to so much but only for y' M^' sake, be- 
seeching y' M. to take this for my resolute answer. 
And thus I cease, praying to Al. God to send y' 
H" a long prosperous reign over us. Chelsea, 
7. July 1586." 



This letter seems to have had its effect, for the 
same day Walsingham writes, that he has received 
her Majesty's commands for the imprisonment of 
Berisford, and informs the earl that his suit is going 

VOL. I. I 



114 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

on in his (the earl's) favour ; so that it is evident 
Elizabeth interfered, and the Secretary is obUged to 
show himself zealous in favour of Lord Shrewsbury, 
at her command; but still letters and arguments 
pass between them, and the Countess of Shrews- 
bury thus writes with assumed humility : — 

THE COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY TO THE EARL.* 

" My Lord, I hold myself most unfortunate 
that upon so slight occasion it pleaseth you to write 
in this form to me : for what new offence is com- 
mitted since her Majesty reconciled us? K the 
denial of the plate be the only cause, why then, my 
lord, the true affirmation thereof in my letter is more 
than my words, neither such a trifle I hoped could 
have wrought so unkind effects ; and were my state 
able I would not stand upon such toys as those you 
speak of. Touching my son's Uving, that is no new 
cause, for it was long ago moved by you, and could 
never be consented to by us, in respect of the 
reasons in my last letter alleged * * My lord, 
I know not how justly you can term me insatiable 
in my desire of gaining, for my losses have been 
so great, with my charges, that makes me desire 
honestly to discharge my debt with my children's 
lands, which you have no need of, and will not in 
my time discharge them though we should Uve on 
nothing ; and I am greedy of no body's lands, but 
would keep the rest, which by all law, order, and 

♦ Endorsed 11th Aug. 1586. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 115 

conscience they ought to possess. Neither my case 
and fortune hath been to maintain my miseries with 
untruths, for receiving daily manifest discourtesies 
I need not blush to speak truly. 

" I assure you, my lord, my meaning is not to 
molest or grieve you with demanding, neither I 
trust it can be thought greediness to demand 
nothing, for I desire no more than her Majesty's 
order giveth, and wish your happy days to be many 
and good. * * * * 

" Touching the postscript, my desire hath been 
so great to be with you and save your long delays, 
that made me be an humble suitor to her M^ to 
be earnest with you, but not as you write. 

** For the other that I labour your stay, I assure 
you, my lord, I did not, but yet would be very glad 
that all were perfected here and then to go down 
with you, and hoped also ere this we should have 
been on our way into the country. 

" So, beseaching Almighty God to make you 
better conceive of me, I end, wishing myself, 
without oflFence, with you. 

Your obedient faithful wife, 

Elizabeth Shrewsbury. 

Richmond, this Thursday." 



Strange as it may appear, this letter had its in- 
tended eflfect on the kind-hearted and easily-moved 
husband, whose disposition the countess appeared 

I 2 



116 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

SO well to know ; for, by a letter from Secretary 
Walsingham to the earl, not long after, he alludes 
to their reconciliation. 

" I declared unto her Majesty, your lordship 
being at Wingfield, to visit your wife, which had 
been before reported to her, whereof she showed 
very good liking for your lordship's satisfying her 
request therein, and wished that it might please 
God so to dispose your heart that the former good 
love between you might be renewed." 

This reconciliation was, however, of short dura- 
tion, for he found himself unable to bear the con- 
stant interference and evident greediness of the host 
of relatives which surrounded the countess. His 
son Gilbert had, apparently, no other view than 
gaining what he could from his father, without 
showing him affection or kindness. The earl's 
dislike to his daughter-in-law was, probably, not 
ill-founded, as she seems to have been equally 
violent and scheming with her mother. 

In a letter to Gilbert, Lord Talbot, the earl ex- 
presses himself with indignation in answer to an 
appUcation for him to pay his debts ; he recommends 
him to " reduce the gawdy trappings of his wife," 
and tells him if he had been more careful, and not 
given way to her pomp and vanity, he need be in no 
fear of his creditors. " And, for my own part," he 
adds, " and your good, I doe wishe you hadde but 
half so muche to relieve your necessities as she and 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 117 

her mother have spent, in seking, through malice, 
myne overthrowe and dishonour, and I in defending 
my just cause agenst them; by meanes of whose 
evill dealings, together with other bargaines wherein 
I have intangled myself of late, I am not eyther 
able to helpe yow or store myself for anie other 
purpose I shall take in hand these twelve months. 
Sheflfeld Lodge, 17 June, 1587." 



Whatever patience and forbearance Lord Shrews- 
bury might have exercised in former days, seem 
exhausted at this period; and he writes only to 
upbraid sons and daughters-in-law, his ovm sons 
and their wives, and his lady, with continual ill- 
treatment and greediness, which he does not appear 
to do without cause ; for Gilbert, who once seemed 
his affectionate friend, was evidently gained over by 
his wife and her mother to their side, against his 
father's interest. It is lamentable to observe the 
state of warfare in which all the family are struggling, 
and the grief of heart of the unfortunate earl, whose 
mind was, doubtless, little soothed by the severe 
proceedings then going on, preparatory to the final 
catastrophe of his former charge, for whom, if he 
was really attached to her, he must have felt the 
deepest conuniseration. He escaped signing the 
sentence against Mary, by being sick in the country, 
or feigning to be so ; he and Lord Warwick alone 
did not put their names to the paper, for the same 



118 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

cause ; but Lord Shrewsbury could not avoid being 
witness to the closing scene of the illustrious victim 
whom EUzabeth's jealousy had saxsrificed. The earl 
did not die till three years after Mary's execution, 
but he suffered much from infirm health, and evi- 
dently received no attention or kindness from his 
wife. In one of the last letters which Lodge gives 
as addressed to him, his correspondent remarks : — 

" I do leame amongst those who^have trust with 
my Lady, your wife, she dothe purpose to spende 
the nexte somer att and aboute London : my lorde, 
yf you colde fjmde the meanes she might bringe all 
her trayne with her, younge and olde : and ta lyke 
case that they sholde not come downe agayne to your 
countrey at ally Iwolde tJcinke it the better for your 
Lordeshipy 

Amidst the vexations he imderwent, the deserted 
earl might perhaps find some consolation in the 
receipt of such a letter, from a sentimental friend, as 
the following. Sir Henry Lee appears to be acting 
the part of the melancholy Jacques, and his com- 
panions in the country, thinking a rural life 

" More sweet than that of painted pomp ;" 

and exclaiming 

" Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court ?** 

one, in fact, 

" Who doth ambition shun, 
And loves to live i'the sun." 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 119 

Sir Henry Lee was a very sentimental personage, 
and, though his age might have guarded him against 
such vanities, he seems to have given occasion for 
much mirth and scandal at court, by his liaison 
with the beautiful maid of honour, Anne Vavasor : 
of whom a correspondent of Lord Talbot says : — 

" Our new maid, M" Vavasor, flourisheth like the 
lily and the rose." 



SIR HENRY LEE TO THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY. 

"Woodstock, 18 Feb. 1588. 

" By destiny I am removed far from the place 
of your Lordship's most abiding, nor of desire or 
choice; but neither way nor fortune can alter or 
alienate me from the love and duty I have, do and 
will ever perform to you. 

"I am now returned home to thi^ keeperly 
corner of mine, settled in my conceit from the vain 
hope of greedy desires, and quieted with my own 
hap as a thing fittest for my estate, knowing my 
worth to be no more yet most worth in trusting to 
myself, and leave the trustless favour of the world, 
that is but of vain shows, gay appearances, and, in 
truth, only nets to hold and pleasing baits to entice ; 
rather fitting the fool to be directed or the fortunate 
that will both direct and command, than men of 
other sort and condition. 

^' When I waited on your lordship in the North 
I sometimes heard how the world went, but now, 



120 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

freeing myself from those desires, I desire nothing 
less, but content myself amongst hannless beasts to 
lead my life and spend the residue of my few days 
that do remain, without care of ought but to do 
well, or desire but the freeing of debts without 
which the best is least free." 

The real motive of Sir Henry's retirement into 
the country, in spite of all his boasted philosophy, 
seems here apparent; he continues: 

" Of such creatures as I write I have sent your 
lordship one. Strange as it may appear to you that 
I should send such a toy so far off to such a prince 
as yourself is, as though I neither knew the North, 
or in those parts what appertains to my Lord of 
Shrewsbury. 

" It is a badge, my lord, of my occupation, 
a remembrance of my duty, and carryeth this 
assuredness withall, that what is behind that either 
my body or mind may work better, is as ready to 
be commended at your lordship's pleasure as this 
was, now by my commandment not to offend you.* 

" In that degree accept it, good my lord, and ever 
command me," &c. 



Less tedious in style, but probably infinitely less 
pleasing to the receiver, except in certain passages, 
must have been the letter of the Bishop of Lichfield 

* The Euphuism of Sir Henry is here rather difficult to understand. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 121 

and Coventry, in which, while the somewhat sarcastic 
prelate acknowledges the faults of the countess, he, 
nevertheless, recommends the earl to endure them 
with fortitude. 



EXTRACTS OF A LETTER FROM WM. OVERTON,* 
BISHOP OF LICHFIELD AND COVENTRY. 

" The chief and last matter we talked of was 
the good and godly reconciUatipn of your lordship 
and your lady ; and your lordship was content to 
take my motion in good part, and to account it for 
a good piece of mine office and charge to travail in 
such a cause, as indeed it is. I speak and write of 
aU love and good will, and you must take all I 
write not as a common friend and hanger-on, but as 
a ghostly father stirred up of God purposely. I 
hope to do good unto you both. I cannot think 
but that it must needs rest as a great clog to your 
conscience to live asunder from the countess 
without her own good liking ; and St. Paul sayeth, 
' defraud not the other of due benevolence, nor of 
real comfort and company, but with agreement, and 
this but for a time to give themselves to fasting and 
prayer/ and so Christ forbiddeth a man to put 
away his wife except /or adultery, and that was 
never suspected in my lady. I could give examples 
of Holy Scripture and prophane writers of the 
fearftd judgment of God upon unlawful separation, 

• Oct. 1590, about a month before the earl died. 



122 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

not only on themselves but their houses and poste- 
rity ; but I shall not use any such discourse to your 
lordship, being so wise, so grave, so well and 
honourably disposed as indeed you are of yourself, 
if other evil counsel did not draw you to the 
contrary, who also shall not want their part in the 
plague — ^malum consilium consultori pessimum. 

" But some will say, in your lordship's behalf, 
that the countess is a sharp and bitter shrew, and 
therefore like enough to shorten your life, if she 
should keep you company. If shrewdness and sharp- 
ness may be a just cause of separation, I think few 
men in England would keep their wives long ; for it 
is a common jest, yet true in some sense, that there 
is but one shrew in all the world, and every man 
hath her. And I doubt not but your great wisdom 
and experience hath taught you to beare sometime 
with a woman as a weaker vessel ; and yet, for the 
speeches I have had with her ladyship in that behalf, 
I durst pawn all my credit unto your lordship, and 
I need not bind myself in any great bond, she will 
bridle herself that way beyond the coarse of other 
women. Some will object great matters against 
her, that she hath sought to overthrow your whole 
house, &c., but their speech cannot carry any sem- 
blance of truth ; she being your wife, your prospe- 
rity must needs profit her very much ; and having 
joined her house with yours in marriage, your long 
life and honourable estate must needs glad her 
heart to the uttermost. If not for her own sake, 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 123 

for the issue of both your bodies, whom she loveth, 
I dare say, as her own hfe, and would not see by 
her own will to fall into decay, and rather think 
the separation to be a stain to your house and a 
danger to your life ; for that God indeed is not well 
pleased with it, who will visit with death or sick- 
ness all that hve not after his law, as of late your- 
self had some Uttle touch or taste given you by 
those, or the nearest friends of those, whom you 
most trusted about you. And both I and you, and 
all of us that are God's children', must think that 
such visitations are sent us of God to call us home, 
and if we despise them when they are sent he will 
lay greater upon us. Thus I am bold, my lord, 
both in the fear of God and good will towards 
yourself, to discharge the duty of a weU-willing 
ghostly father ; and if your L. accqitt it well, as I 
hope you wiH, I beseech you let me understand it 
by a line or two, that I may give God thanks for 
it, if not, I have done my part ; the success I leave 
unto God, and rest, notwithstanding what I may, 
yoiu* L.'s in all duty, 

ECCLESALL." 



At length, the sorrows and troubles of the Earl 
of Shrewsbury were brought to a close by death. 
He escaped " the weariness, the fever, and the fret," 
to which he had been so long condemned, on the 
18th November, 1590, 



124 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

In his will, dated 24th June, 1590 (32d Eliza- 
beth), he left his body to be buried in the parochial 
church of Sheffield; and two hundred pounds 
yearly for the benefit of the poorest artificers of the 
town of Pontefi-act, " for the increase of trades and 
occupations there;" and gave directions that, "on 
Monday in Whitsun week the mayor shall lend unto 
every poor artificer of the said town, so far as the 
said money shall extend, the sum of five pounds for 
three years then next following, putting in good 
and sufficient security for the payment." 

By this, the kindness of his heart and the bene- 
volence of his character are manifest ; and thus it 
is easier to forgive the pomposity o{ the Latin 
epitaph which he had caused to be composed during 
his lifetime, and placed on the tomb he had erected 
in Sheffield church to his own memory, setting 
forth a variety of virtues and good qualities to 
which, perhaps, his successors did not consider 
he had a right — ^if we may judge by their omitting 
the only attention which he required at their hands, 
namely, the record of the date of his death, which 
they never took the trouble to supply ! 

His epitaph is a curious piece of gossip, for he 
lets the reader into uncaUed-for particulars, by his 
allusion to the scandal he was accused of with 
Mary Stuart, which, he observes, was di^oved 
by the fact of his being appointed to be present at 
her execution. This, perhaps, was indeed the rea- 
son of his submitting to such a trial ; and if he 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 125 

bore such torture for the sake of re-estabUshing her 
reputation, the act does him honour. He speaks, 
also, of the esspensea to which her entertainment 
subjected him, and of " the anxious care scarcely to 
be expressed " which was his portion while he was 
her guardian, from 1568 to 1584. 

This proves that the good lord found it impos- 
sible to conceal his feehngs on subjects ever upper- 
most in his mind ; in the whole of the inscription, 
however, the name of his fatal countess is not men- 
tioned, as if he hoped to obhterate her from his 
recollection, as he left her out of his epitaph. 

What his real sentiments respecting his unfortu- 
nate captive might have been, it is difficult to 
decide ; there is nothing particularly tender in the 
following reconunendation for her speedy removal 
from the path of her enemy : — 

THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY TO LORD BURGHLEY.* 

" My noble good Lord, 

" I have received your lordship's letters, 
both of the 12*^ of Nov. and the 14'^ of the same, 
whereby I fynd myself greatUe beholdinge unto 
your lordship for your good remembrance of me, 
with the proceedinge of the fowle matters of the 
Scotts Queue ; sentence whereof, I understand 
by your lordship, is geven and confirmed, and for 
execution to be had accordinge. I perceive it now 

♦ Burgbley State Papers. -Murdin, vol. ii. 



126 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

resteth in Her Majesty's hands ; for my own part, 
I pray that God may so inspire her Harte to take 
that course as may be for her Majesty's own saftie ; 
the which I trust her Majesty's grave wisdom will 
wiselye forsee; whichy in my comete^ canTwt be 
without speedy execution. 

" And this wishing to your good lordship as to 
myself, doe bid you right hartelie farewell. 

Your Lordship's assuredly, 

Shrewsbury. 
Orton Longville, this 17*^ of November, 1586. 
To the Bight Honorable my verie good Lord the 

Lord Burghley^ Lord Thresorer of England!' 



There is no evidence that Queen Elizabeth 
mourned greatly for the loss of her faithful servant. 
Perhaps she had not heard of his death when she 
continued her usual amusements, for he died on 
the 18th, and on the 19th she was at an entertain- 
ment, to which she took one of his little grand- 
children. As his death occurred at Sheffield, some 
days must have elapsed, of course, before the news 
would have reached her, or his son, who is still 
addressed by a friend as Lord Talbot. 

That the Queen always regarded the countess 
with friendly feelings, appears in many instances ; 
and in the following letter, written by Richard 
Brakinbury, she shows it by the attention she pays 
the child above-mentioned : — 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY, 127 

1590. 
RICHARD BRAKINBURY TO LORD TALBOT. 

" If I should write how much her Majesty did 
this day make of the little lady your daughter, mth 
often kissinff, which her Majesty seldom tiseth to any, 
and then amending her dressing with pins, and still 
carrying her in her own barge, and so into the privy 
lodgings, and so homeward from the running, you 
would scarce believe me. Her Majesty said, as 
true it is, that she is very like my lady her grand- 
mother. She behaved herself with such modesty 
as I pray God she may possess at twenty years old. 
My Lady Marquess did take only care of her." 

The " running" alluded to in this letter took 
place on the 19th. of November, St. EUzabeth's day. 
The courtiers of the Queen, who left nothing un- 
tried to gain her favour, had imagined the flattery 
of reviving the recollection of a saint who was even 
forgotten in the Roman CathoKc ritual^ in order to 
do honour to the Protestant princess about whom the 
Saint had, at the best, little cause to trouble herself. 

Pleased with every tribute to her vanity, how far- 
fetched soever, the Queen permitted the resuscita- 
tion of Saint EUzabeth's memory, for the sake of 
the compliment intended to honour her. 

The miracle to which this heroine owes her 
canonization is thus related in the lesson dedicated 
to her in the ancient rituals: as the vain and 



128 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

coquettish Queen was herself not indifferent to 
" comely young men," there might be a reason 
found, as well as in her name, for associating them. 

" A comely young man, too gaily habited, com- 
ing to visit her, Elizabeth admonished him to 
despise the ' vanities of the world.' 

" The young man answered, ' Madam, I beseech 
you pray for me.V 

" * If thou wouldst have me pray for thee,' said 
Elizabeth, ' go thou and do likewise.' 

" So they began to pray at some distance, till 
the young man, unable to endure the fervour of her 
devotion, began to cry aloud that he should be 
destroyed by it. Whereupon her maidens running 
to him, found him all on fire, so that they could not 
touch his clothes, but were fain hastily to withdraw 
their hands, with such a vehement heat did he 
bum. EUzabeth hereupon ceased to pray ; and the 
young man, inspired by this divine warmth, went 
into the order of the Franciscans." 

It appears almost incredible that a woman of 
any mind could feel gratified by homage paid her, 
drawn from such a source as this silly legend, at 
which she could not choose but laugh in contempt ; 
but that she endured any flattery, is proved too 
clearly; and that the best and greatest about her 
did not disdain to use it, is also too apparent. 
Witness aU the folly addressed to her by Sir PhiUp 
Sidney, in so many of his works. She who could 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 129 

endure the fulsome compliments contained in his 
Lady of May, might well deUght in any. It is 
laughable to note the absurdity of the time, in its 
indulgence to her weakness. Wherever she appeared, 
new devices were contrived to flatter and deUght 
her : she could not step but nymphs and shepherds 
darted forth, falling at her feet, and uttering 
extravagant praises, which were echoed by the 
courtiers round her. In the masque alluded to, 
she is called 

" The only sight this age hath granted to the world," 

and the Lady of May, acknowledged to be a 
divinity of beauty, confesses her inferiority to 

" The beautifuUest lady these woods have ever received ;** 

and the lovers address her — 

" Judge you to whom all beauty's force is lent ; 
Judge you of Love to whom all Love is bent !" 

And one wretched shepherd is heard to exclaim : — 

" How many courtiers, think you, have I heard, 
under one field, in bushes, making their woeful 
complaints; some of the greatness of their mis- 
tress's estate, which dazzled their eyes, and yet 
burned their hearts : some, of the extremity of her 
beauty, mixed with extreme cruelty : some, of her 
too much wit, which made all their loving labour 
folly. Oh! how often have I heard one name 
sound in many mouths, making our vales wit- 
nesses of their doleful agonies ! So that, with 

VOL. I. K 



130 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

long-lost labour, finding their thoughts bare no 
other wool but despair, of young courtiers, they 
grew old shepherds !" 

Every one was secure of attention and redress 
who had wit and cunning enough to oflfer Elizabeth 
the incense in which she most dehghted. Osbom 
tells a characteristic story of her, which shows how 
well her weakness was understood by all ranks : — 

" A purveyor having abused the county of Kent, 
upon her remove to Greenwich, whither she often 
resorted, being, as I have heard, the first air she 
breathed, and, therefore, most likely to agree with 
her, a countryman, watching the time she went to 
walk, which was commonly early, and being wise 
enough to take his time when she stood unbent and 
quiet from the ordinary occasions she was taken up 
with, placing himself within reach of her ear, did, 
after the fashion of his coat, cry aloud, * Which is 
the queen ?' Whereupon, as her manner was, she 
turned about towards him, and he continuing still 
his question, she herself answered, 'I am your 
queen ; what wouldst thou have with me ?' * You,' 
rephed the fellow, * are one of the rarest women I 
ever saw, and can eat no more than my daughter, 
Madge, who is thought the properest lass in our 
parish, though short of you: but that Queen 
Elizabeth I look for, devours so many of my hens, 
ducks, and capons, as I am not able to live/ " 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 181 

The Queen, no less auspicious to all suits made 
through the mediation of her comely shape, of 
which she held a high esteem, after her looking- 
glasses (long laid by before her death) might have 
confuted her in any good opinion of her face, than 
maUgnant to all oppression above her own, inquired 
who was the purveyor; and, as the story went, 
suffered him to be hanged, after a special order for 
his trial, according to a statute made to prevent 
abuses in this kind." 

The Earl of Shrewsbury's son and successor, 
Gilbert, showed Uttle feeUng for his father's death 
when he came to know it, and little respect for his 
memory. He must have been a time-serving, weak 
man, governed by his overbearing wife, who was a 
true daughter of her mother. 

He was unfortunate in his pubUc career, not 
having, probably, improved the opportunity of the 
flirtation in the " tylte-yard," and having neglected 
to feign a tender passion to his vain mistress, which 
might have advanced him in her favour; for she was 
not particular as to the fact of her supposed adorers 
being married or single. His wife would, it is likely, 
have exhibited due indulgence, had he thought it 
necessary to be in love with Queen Elizabeth, both 
because more was to be gained by the presumption, 
and less reaUty was likely to go towards the pro- 
fession, than his father's attachment to Queen Mary, 
which jthe old countess could not brook, for Mary 

K 2 



132 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

was beautiful and her fortunes ruined, while EUza- 
beth was far from attractive, and stood on the top 
of Fortune's wheel, ready to dispense her favours to 
aU who approached her. 

Be this as it may, Gilbert Talbot was never very 
distinguished in Elizabeth's reign, and yet was neg- 
lected by James, as being one of the adherents of 
the former Court. 

The following anecdote exhibits his wife, the 
daughter of the countess, in a Ught by no means 
imlike her mother : 

" In 1592, the families of Cavendish and Stan- 
hope, in the county of Nottingham, were upon 
exceeding ill terms, insomuch that blood was shed 
on both sides. The following is a copy of a message 
sent by Mary Cavendish, countess of Salop, to Sir 
Thomas Stanhope, of Shelford, Kn*, by one George 
Holt, and Wilhamson; and deUvered by the said 
Williamson, Feb. 15, 1592, in the presence of certain 
persons whose names were subscribed : — ' My Lady 
hath commanded me to say thus much unto you, 
That though you be more wretched, vile, and mise- 
rable, than any creature Kving ; nnd/or your wicked" 
nesSy become more ugly in shape than the vilest toad 
in the world ; and one to whom none of reputation 
would vouchsafe to send any message ; yet she hath 
thought good to send thus much to you : — ^that she 
be contented you should live (and doth no waies wist 
your death) but to this end : that all the plagues 
and miseries that may befall any man may light 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 133 

upon such a caitiff as you are ; and that you should 
live to have all your friends forsake you ; and with- 
out your great repentance, which she looketh not 
for, because your life hath been so bad, you will be 
damned perpetually in hell fire.' " 

This courteous message from a lady, contained 
words even more offensive, but the very bearer of it 
was ashamed of his commission, refusing to repeat 
it when required ; a circumstance which did happen, 
though it might naturally be supposed that to hear 
such a speech once was sufficient for those to whom 
it was addressed. The messenger assured those 
who heard him, '* that if he had failed in any- 
thing, it was in speaking it more mildly, and not 
in terms of such disdain as he was commanded," 

Whether the answer sent by the opponents was 
equally gentle and conciliating, does not appear; 
but it was probably conceived in the same style ; as 
that was not an age for great delicacy, either of 
feehng or expression. 

This charming wife brought Gilbert, Earl of 
Shrewsbury, a son, who died in infancy, and three 
daughters, all of whom married noblemen of high 
character as well as birth : viz. to William Herbert, 
Earl of Pembroke ; Henry Grey, Earl of Kent, and 
Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel. 

The husband of the grand-daughter of Elizabeth, 
Countess of Shrewsbury, was the son of that amiable 
Countess of Pembroke, whose virtues her exalted 



134 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN, 

brother. Sir Philip Sidney, and Ben Jonson, have 
celebrated. 

" So near approach the lofty and the low ! " 

Mary, Countess of Shrewsbury, does not appear 
to have been a woman of greater sense than sweet- 
ness of temper, as is proved by the weak belief in 
remedies which a letter, written by her brother, 
proves. In this, however, she may not have been 
more credulous than many persons of her age, who 
attributed to gold and precious stones virtues which 
they did not possess. 

All sorts of absurdities were at this time practised 
in medicine. In an account of the death of the 
Earl of Derby, in 1594, he is said to have taken 
Bezoar stone and unicorn 8 horn, and yet did not 
recover ; which appeared plainly to prove to those 
about him that he was bewitched, and some vn'etched 
women were examined and tortured accordingly to 
make them confess the fact, of which no doubt 
existed, inasmuch as in his chamber was found an 
imaffe of wax with a hair dravm through the body of it. 



SIR CHARLES CAVENDISH TO THE COUNTESS OF 
SHREWSBURY. 1592. 

" Madam. — ^The French man by whom I should 
come to that salt of gold is gone to Cambridge, and 
I doubt will be a good time before his return ; but 
making relation to Mr. Dyer of your opinion thereof 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 185 

he, exceedingly extolling it, said he would once more 

help to four grains of it; and, redoubling his words, 

he said ' once or twice more.' He sayth the pearl 

should be taken fourteen days together, every day 

ten grains, and then be left off six months, with 

many other circumstances of the coral^ and the rest. 

Sir Walter Rawley saith he hath but Uttle left, and 

hath sent you of two sorts. * * Because I would 

have the box this night with you I cease from foreign 

news, &c. 

Your most assmed loving brother to command, 

Charles Cavendish." 
Oatlands. 



The death of Earl Geoi^e, it might have been 
supposed, would have put an end to the countess's 
quarrels and struggles for supremacy ; her dear 
friend. Earl Gilbert., who betrayed and worried his 
father for her sake, or rather for the sake of his own 
interest, was now at the head of affairs ; but she 
soon found that nothing but envy and jealousy 
sprang up between the greedy tribe \ who, like the 
daughters of the horse-leech, kept crying " Give, 
give ; it is not enough." 

Her favourite " son, William Cavendish," seems 
very soon to have driven Gilbert from her regard ; 
probably she never in truth cared for him further 
than, 83 being his father's heir, she thought it well 
to keep on good terms with him. 

Her "Jewell Arbella," seems also an object of 



136 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

envy and suspicion to the earl and his wife, to whose 
care she was conMed; although they kept their 
feelings in some check, still looking to the possibi- 
lity of Arabella's future high estate, nevertheless 
they did not neglect her means to conciUate the old 
coimtess in their favour. 

A friend, Sir Francis Leake, writes to Earl Gilbert, 
while all sorts of law contentions are going on : — 

" I did never hear that any of your lordship's 
council should speak that your lordship should come 
and seek my old lady's favour, nor she yours. * * 
And I did never hear that my lady Arabella's com- 
ing into this country was by your lordship's means; 
neither do I yet hear any cause of her coming down 
but to see my old lady her right honourable grand- 
mother. But, to dehver my own opinion, I did in 
my heart rejoice in her coming, and trusted the 
same would have redounded to the appearing or at 
least entrance to qualify such controversies and 
suites as yet depend unended betwixt your lordship 
and my old lady. The longer such great persons 
contending, the more suits and contentions vnll still 
arise, and the sooner they come to a quiet end the 
greater comfort is to yourselves and all those friends 
that love you all." 



Another correspondent of Earl Gilbert's does not 
appear so much in the character of a peace-maker 
fts Sir Francis Leake. Thomas Woodward writes 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 137 

long, tedious letters, setting forth all the wrongs of 
the earl, and telling him a thousand petty particu- 
lars, calculated to irritate instead of soothing. He 
says, " Your unkindness sticks sore in her teeth/' 
but he does not take a good way to soften it, when 
he goes on to talk of " the manifold injuries and 
most unkind dealing of the old countess towards 
your lordship, not only in waste and spoil on suits 
and vexations for trifles, in intruding into your 
honour s lands, which are no part of her jointure, 
but also in giving countenance, or rather most foul 
maintenance of your lordship's most base and paltry 
enemies. Whereat all the world, that knoweth the 
rising of her happy fortune, wonder at her injiuious 
coiurse against so noble a person, and her own 
progeny." 

Earl Gilbert, and his brothers, seem to have been 
on such bad terms at this time, that the Queen 
thought it necessary to interfere to prevent him and 
Edward Talbot from fighting a duel. Many letters 
passed between them of the most hostile nature, in 
which the elder brother exhibits the worst possible 
feeUng. The subject of contention is still " gold, 
yellow, gUttering, precious gold." 

To the very last the coimtess seemed in a state of 
contention with her family. Some differences even 
appear to have arisen between her and her favourite, 
Arabella, at this time ; but they were made up by 
King James's means, and sealed by Arabella's pro- 
curing her son, William, the title of baron. 



138 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

In a lively letter from Sir Francis Leake, who 
was her connexion, she is named as quarrelling with 
her daughter-in-law. Lady Cavendish. The letter 
is amusing and characteristic, and pla<;es before the 
mind's eye the imperious Mary, Countess of Shrews- 
bury — her ladies, friends, and young daughters, 
attired as huntresses, and mounted on swift steeds, 
sweeping along through the glades and over the 
downs of the extensive and beautiful parks of 
Derbyshire, armed with bows and arrows, hke 
Diana and her train. 



SIR FRANCIS LEAKE TO THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY. 

1605. July 6th, Sutton. 

'* My right honourable good Lord, 

" Your lordship hath sent me a very great 

and fat buck, the welcomer, being stricken by your 

right honourable lady's hand. I trust, by the grace 

of God, he shall be merrily eaten at these assizes, 

where your lordship and my lady shall be often 

remembered. My hold buck lives still to wait upon 

your lordship and my lady's coming hither; which 

I expect, whensoever it shall please you to appoint, 

only this, that my lady does not hit him through 

the nose for marring his white face ; howbeit I know 

heu ladyship takes pity of my bucks since the last 

time it pleased her to take the travel to shoot at 
them. 

" I am afraid that my honourable ladies, my 

Lady Alathea, and my Lady Cavendish, will com- 



COUNTESS OF SHEEWSBUEY. 139 

mand their arrow heads to be very sharp; yet I 
charitably trust such good ladies will be pitiful. 
I may well afford your lordship, and such as attend 
upon you, bucks here, if you can kill them ; for I 
understand your lordship, and my honourable 
cousin. Sir Charles Cavendish, will bestow more 
bucks upon me than will serve to furnish the best 
sheriff's diet ; and so of my bountiful mind, I mean 
to kUl, in my own ipwi^jmt not one, 

" I am sorry for Sir Robert Dudley's great over- 
throw, because I was much bound in duty to his 
father; and if he do marry Mrs. Southwell, it is 
felony by these last statutes.* 

" My Lord Cavendish's lady is very sick, at 
Oldcotes ; it is said my old lady and she have had 
some discontenting speeches, 

" The Lady Bowes is this day come home : I wish 

her some good night company, to defend her from 

walking spirits, 

* This was a case which excited much attention at the time. 
Sir Robert Dudley's legitimacy was disputed by his mother-in- 
law ; and the question being determined against him, he retired, in 
disgust, to Italy ; from whence refusing to return, he was 
deprived of his estates by a shameful misapplication of the statute 
of fugitives. Sir Robert was married ; but, at this time, had 
eloped with Elizabeth, one of the daughters of Sir Robert South- 
well, of Woodrising, in Norfolk ; and this imprudent step put a 
finishing stroke to all his future prospects in England, as it 
aflPorded James a new plea for the unjust assumption of the late 
Earl of Leicester's estates. The frail fair one lived for several 
years in Italy with Sir Robert, bearing the title of Duchess of 
Northumberland, the dukedom of which the Duke of Tuscany 
had affected to confer on her reputed husband by letters patent 
It is strange that neither Dugdale nor CoUins should mention this 
remarkable circumstance. — Lodge, 



140 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" My MaQ, I thank God, is as I could wish, but 
more sickly than she was upon my little black eyes. 
It will be a comfort to see you, and my good lady, 
at the old house ; and with our dutjes, 

We rest at your service, 

Fran. Leake." 

Probably Sir Francis Leake was more friendly to 
that part of the family, both of Talbot and Cavendish, 
which was at variance with the old Countess ; for 
Sutton is the mansion whose magnificence so much 
offended her, that she built Oldcotes in emulation, 
or derision. 

Sutton Hall still stands ; a very beautiful house, 
but no longer the rival of Hardwick, which remains 
in its original state, while Sutton was long after 
ahnost wholly rebuilt in a very elegant and impos- 
ing style. A small closet is shovra where the fugi- 
tive, Charles IL, is said to have concealed himself 
for a night. The carving of the doors and the 
inlaid wood-work of the staircase are extremely fine ; 
it seems that a coal field, under the estate, promises 
to render it a mine of wealth, added to that already 
possessed by the present ovraer.* 

The shade of Bess of Hardwick may be made 
imquiet yet, by the knowledge of her neighbour's 
prosperity. 

The church of Sutton adjoins the house, and is 
very picturesque ; there are in the aisle some curious 

♦ Robert ArkwHght, Esq. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 141 

stones, one carved with a Saxon cross, and — ^what 
seems — ^a stone hatcKet ; and a fine monument, one 
of the Fuljamb family. 

During the seventeen years of Elizabeth, Coun- 
tess of Shrewsbury's widowhood, her chief occupa- 
tion seems to have been the carrying into efiect a 
project of building, which there is nothing to prove 
that she had not ahready begun in the lifetime of 
her husband. She had made great additions to the 
family mansion of Hardwick, in which she was 
bom, but did not satisfy herself; and seems at 
length to have taken the resolution of erecting an 
entirely new house, exactly according to her own 
taste. Some remnant of afiection for a dweUing 
where she had passed some of her early years, where 
her parents resided, and where, it may be, some 
of those days dearest to her heart, when William 
Cavendish was her companion, were passed — some 
feehng of tenderness, such as the hardest hearts 
experience occasionally, may have saved part of old 
Hardwick Hall from destruction when she took 
much of the materials of the ancient erection to 
create a newer and more magnificent hall within a 
few hundred yards. 

Time has spared both, as if it had destined the 
world to judge of the style and taste of the foun- 
dress and her ancestors ; and in these remains the 
character of the energetic countess seems to be at 
once seen and imderstood, while the manner of 
living of her time is presented to the beholder with 



142 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

a vividness such as is to be found, perhaps, in no 
mansion in England besides. 

New Hardwick Hall is said to have been never 
altogether completed; but it remains a splendid 
monument of princely taste and proud magnificence 
worthy of the present noble and hberal possessor 
of that reUc of the countess and her times. At 
Chatsworth all of her has vanished by degrees, as, 
from age to age, the building was altered and im- 
proved, tin the gorgeous and unapproachable fabric, 
as it now appears, filled with the choicest treeisures 
of art, and surromided by the most pleasing beau- 
ties of nature, stood forth a marvel in the country. 

However beautiful and rich may be the dwellings 
of the great, the interest they excite is but transient 
without there are recollections attached to them on 
which the mind can dwell with feelings allied to 
something beyond mere admiration. Thus Chats- 
worth, even in its modem dress, carries one back to 
the period when Bess of Hardwick and her hus- 
band planned and built on that same ground ; and, 
above all, when the captive Queen, of ill-fated 
memory, looked from its turrets with vain hope and 
unimagined despair. 

There is, however, nothing left of Mary but her 
name, her picture, and a romantic spot in Chats- 
worth Park, called Queen Mary's Bower, where she 
might really once have sat, pondering on her event- 
fill hfe. 

Hardwick Hall is full of the recollections of 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 143 

Mary; so much so, that, if superstition were 
allowable, the feeling of intimacy with her here, 
might prove that she had really breathed within 
the walls where tradition has loved to assert that 
her spirit still walks, meeting, at midnight, in the 
old gallery, her rivals, the two Elizabeths, whose 
pictures, with her own, are hanging there. Unless 
the precise date were ascertained when New Hard- 
wick Hall began to rise in its majesty, it is useless 
positively to assert, as of late has been done, that 
Mary Stuart never visited this house. There are 
so many interruptions in the correspondence of all 
the parties during the sixteen years that Mary 
resided under different roofs belonging to Lord 
Shrewsbury, that it is by no means certain that 
she was not brought here, or to the older Hall, 
for a space, however brief. 

Be this as it may, the reason for the tradition, so 
long believed and so reluctantly parted with, is, 
that there exists, in New Hardwick Hall, a chamber, 
called Queen Mary's, where her bed, her tapestry, 
chairs, &c. are placed. 

These relics, it is well known, came from 
Chatsworth, at the time when alterations there 
rendered their removal necessary. The adornments 
above the door, also, came from the same place; 
but the door itself, and the panels round the room, 
are, doubtless, now in their original position: the 
date of 1699 proving that they could not have 
belonged to a chamber occupied by Mary, who 



144 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

was freed from custody, by a sure and faithful 
hand — ^that of death — eleven years before. 

The appearance of this interesting room, as it is 
now shown, is as follows : — It is in one of the six 
projecting square towers, has two fine windows, 
with heavy stone frames, and small panes of glass, 
of diamond shape. The tapestry which adorns the 
walls is of ''forest work T that is, groves of trees, 
with occasional rural accidents introduced : as a 
cottage embowered, a cascade, or stream, in which 
aquatic birds are saihng. The original bright 
tints are faded, and the blues and greens have lost 
their richness. There is an elaborate border 
surrounding the pieces, once, no doubt, of great 
beauty, — ^when the wreaths of flowers and fruit 
were as vivid as they are now dim. 

The bedstead is not the original, and has been 
cut down to suit the state of the hangings, much 
injured from the uncourteous zeal of Mary's 
admirers, whose idle fondness for trifles too often, 
it appears, by the dilapidations, got the better of 
the reverence due to that which had belonged to 
her. The ground of the hangings is black velvet, 
on which are worked — ^it is said with her own 
hand — ^large flowers, of different kinds ; the whole 
bordered by a running pattern, of great elegance, 
introducing the form of the fleur-de-lys, and the 
initials " M. S." throughout. There is little doubt 
that this, and a great deal of embroidery besides 
in the house, was worked by Mary and her ladies, 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 145 

whose needles were never quiet ; for, as the queen 
herself records, she worked without ceasing, until 
she suffered from the close appUcation.* 

* "Mary Q. of Scots' Imprisonment at TutburyJ* — (Mr. White to 
Sir William Cecil, 26 Feb. 1568.)— 'When I came to Colsell, a 
town in Chesterway, and understood that Tutbury Castell was 
not above half a day's journey out of my way, finding the 
winde contrary, and having somewhat to say to my Lord of 
Shrewesbery, toching the County of Wexford, I tooke post 
horses and came thither abowte five of the clocke in the evening, 
where I was veray frendly recey ved by the Erie. 

" The Queene of Scotts understanding by his Lordship, that 
a Servant of the Queue's Majestie's of some creditt was come to 
the house, semed deasyrous to speak with me, and therupon 
came furthe of her Privy Chamber into the Presens Chamber, 
where I was, and in veray curteise manner bade me welcom, and 
asked of me howe hir good syster did. I told hir Grace that the 
Queue's Majestic (God be praised) did veray well, saving that all 
hir felicities gave place to some naturall passions of Greif, which 
she conceavedfor the deathe of her kinswoman and goode servant 
the Lady Knolls ; and howe by that occasion hir Highnes fell 
for a while, fi*om a Prince waunting nothing in this world, to 
private Morning, in which solitary estate being forgettfull of hir 
awin helthe, she tooke cold, wherwith she was muche trowbled, 
and wherof she was well delivered. 

" This much past, she harde the Englishe sarvice with a booke 
of the Psalmis in Englishe in hir hand, which she showed me 
after. When Sarvice was done, hir Grace fell in talke with me 
of sundry matters, from 6 to 7 of the clocke, beginning first 
to excuse hir ill Englishe, declaring hir self more willing than apt 
to leme that language ; howe she used translations as a means 
to attayn it j and that Mr. Vice-Chamberlayn was hir good scole- 
master. From this she returned back again to talke of my Lady 
Knolls. And after many speches past to and fro of that Gentil- 
woman, I perceyving hir to harpe muche upon hir Departure, 



♦ Tutbury is four miles from Burton upon Trent, on the west 
bank of the river Dove. The ruins of the Castle are still in 
existence. — Vide Nightingale's Beauties of England and tVales, 
Vol. xiii. p. 2. 

VOL. I. L 



146 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The door is of dark wood, with a pattern and 
scrolls hke the pannels, which are painted black, 
and gUt, with the letters G. S. in every compart- 

sayd, that the long absence of hir husband (and specially in that 
article) together with the fervency of hir fever, did greatly furthir 
hir ende ; waunting nothing els that either Art, or Man's helpe 
could devise for hir recovery ; lying in a princes' Cort nere hir 
person, where every owre hir careful eare understoode of hir 
estate, and where also she was veray often visited by hir Majestic 's 
awne comfortable presens : And sayd merely, that, although hir 
Grace were not culpable of this Accydent, zet she was the cause 
without which ther being asunder had not hapned. She sayd, she 
was veraye sorry for hir death, because she hoped well to have 
been acquaynted with hir. I perceyve, by my Lord of Shrewes- 
bery, sayd she, that ye goo into Irlande (whiche is a trowblesom 
cuntry) to serve my syster there : I do so, Madame, and the 
chiefest trowble of Irland proceedes from the north of Scotland 
throwe the Erie of Argile's supportation : whereunto she little 
ainswered. 

" I asked hir, how she liked hir change of ayre : she sayd, if it 
might have pleased hir good sister to lett hir remeyn where she 
was, she woulde not have removed for change of ayre, this tyme 
of the yere ; but she was the better contentyd therwith, because 
she was come so muche the nerer to hir guid syster, whom she 
desyred to see above all things, if it might please hir to graunt 
the same. I told hir Grace that althoghe she had not the actuall, 
yet she had always the effectuall presens of the Queue's Majestic 
by hir greate bountye and kindnes ; who (in the opinion of us 
abrode in the worlde) did every way performe towards hir; the 
office of a gracious prince, a naturall kinswoman, a loving syster, 
and a faithefull frend ; and how muche she had to thanke God, 
that, after the passing of so many perills, she was lately arrived 
into suche a realme, as where all we of the comon sort demed she 
had the good cause (throwe the goodnes of the Queue's Majestie) 
to think hirself rather princelike intertayned than hardly restrayned 
of any thinge, that was fitt for hir grace's estate : And for my 
awne parte did wishe hir Grace mekely to bowe hir mynde to 
God, who hath put hir into this scole, to leme to knowe him to 
be above Kings and Princes of this world ; with such other like 
speches as tyme and occasion then served; which she veray 
gentilly accepted, and confessed that indede she had great cause 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 147 

ment. Above the door is a caxving of the arms of 
Scotland, M. R. ; and this inscription — " Marie 
Stewart par le grace de Dieu Meyne de Scosse 

to tbanke God for sparing of hir, and greate cause likewise to 
thanke hir guid syster for this kindly using of hir ; As for con- 
tentation in this hir present estate she would not require at God's 
hands, but only pacience, whiche she humbly prayed him to 
give hir. 

" I asked hir Grace since the wether did cutt of all exercises 
abrode, howe she passed the tyme within : She sayd, that all that 
day she wrought with her nydill, and that the diversitie of the 
colors made the worke seme lesse tedious, and contynued so long 
at it till veray payn made hir to give over, and with that layd hir 
hand upon hir left syde and complayned of an old greif newly 
increased there. Upon this occasion she entred into a pretty 
disputable comparison between Karving, Painting, and working 
with the nydill, affirming painting in hir awne opinion for the 
most commendable qualitie : I answered hir Grace, I could skill of 
neither of thame, but that I have redd, Picture to be Veritas falsa : 
With this she closed up hir talke, and bydding me farewell, 
retyred into hir privay Chamber. 

" She sayd nothing directly of yourself to me. Nevertheless I 
have found that, which at my first entry into hir presence Chamber 
I imagined, which was, that hir servant Bethun, had given hir 
some privye note of me : for as sone as he espied me, he forsoke 
our acquayntance at Cort, and repayred straight into hir Privay 
Chamber and from that Airthe could never see him. But after 
supper Mr. Harry Knolls and I fell into some close conferens, 
and he (among other things) tolde me how lothe the Queue was 
to leave Bolton Castle, not sparing to give further in speche, 
that the secretary was hir enemy, and that she mystrusted by 
this removing he would cause hir to be made away ; and that hir 
daunger was so muche the more, because there was one dwelling 
very nere Tutbery, which pretended title in succession to the 
crown of England (meaning the Erie of Huntington). But when 
hir passion was past (as he told me) she sayed that thoo the 
Secretary were not hir frend, yet she must say he was an experte 
wise man, a maynteyner of all good lawes for the government of 
this realme, and a faithfiill servaunt to his mistress ; wishing it 
might be hir luck to gett the friendship of so wise a man. 

" Sir, I durst take upon my deathe to justifie, what manner of 

L 2 



148 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Bouariere de France^ The crest is a lioii with 
this motto — " In my Defem!' 

The tapestry answers to a description of that 

man Sir William Cecill ys, but I know not whens this opinion 
procedes. Tlie living God presarve hir life long, whom you 
sarve in singlenes of hart, and make all hir deasyred successors 
to become hir predecessors. 

" But, if I (whiche in the sight of God beare the Queene's 
Majestic a rationall love besyde my bounden dutie) might give 
advise, there shuld veray few subjects in this land have accesse 
to or conferens with this lady. For besyd, that she is a goodly 
personadge, (and yet in trouthe not comparable to our souverain) 
she hathe withall an alluring grace, a pretty Scottishe speche, 
and a serching witt, clowded with myldnes. Fame might move 
some to releve hir, and glory joyned to gayn might stir others to 
adventure moche for hir sake ; then joy is a lively infective sens 
and cariethe many perswasions to the hart, which ruleth all the 
rest ; Myn awne affection by seeing the Queue's Majestic our 
Souverain is dowbled, and therby I gesse what sight might 
worke in others. Hir Heare of itself is black, and zet Mr. 
Knolls told me, that she weares heare of divers colors. 

" In looking upon hir clothe of estate, I noted this sentence 
embrodred, En ma fin est mon commencement ; which is a ryddill 
I understande not. The greatist personage in hotiss about hir is 
the Lord of Levenston and the lady his wife, which is a fayre 
gentilwoman; and it was told me, both protestants. She hathe 
nine women more, fifty persons in household, with ten horses. 
The Busshope of Ross lay then thre myles of in a towne called 
Burton upon Trent, with unother Scottishe lord, whose name I 
have forgotten. My Lord of Shrewesbery is veray carefiill of his 
charge but the Queue over waches thame all ; for it is one of the 
clocke at least every night er she goo to bed. The next morning 
I was upp tymely and viewing the seate of the house, which in 
myn opinion standes moche like Windesor, I^ espied two hialberd 
men without the Castell wall serching undernethe the Queue's bed 
chamber windowe. Thus have I trowbled your honor with 
rehersall of this long colloquy, hapned betwene the Queue 
of Scotts and me; and zet had I rather in myn awne fansy 
adventure thus to encumber youe then leave it unreported, as 
nere as my memory could sarve me ; thoghe the greatest part 
of our communication was in the presence of my Lord of Shrewes- 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 149 

which was himg in her rooms at Sheffield ; and as 
it was usual to remove some of the furniture from 
place to place when a change of residence was 
effected, this is, perhaps, the same as that named 
in a MS. book, in the possession of the Duke of 
Devonshire, of which the. list is so curious, as a 
guide to the treasures of that period to be foimd at 
Hardwick, that I imagine it wiQ please those for 
whom these domestic details possess interest. 

" Nat^. Johnston's MS, Ext. 

" That it may appear to posterity what rich and 
plentifull furniture my lord had in Sheffield Castle 
and Sheffield Lodge, I shall heare sett down the 
principal things as they were writt in a book 
entitled : — 

' A Brief Inventory of my Lordes Household 
Stuff at Sheffield Castle and Sheffield Lodge, within 
the charge of J. Dickonson and Wm. Katterall, the 
Wardrobemen, and others ; seen and reviewed the 
17 June, 1583. A« Regni Eliz. 25. 

Imprimis. 

Hangings brought from London with 

the story of the Sybile . . . , 6 pieces. 
Hangings of Imagery for the chapel . 7 p, 

bery and Mr. Harry Knolls ; praying you to beare with me 
theryn, among the number of those that lode youe with long 
frivolus letters. And so I humbly take my leave, awayting 
an easterly winde. "—/Vom the Burghley State Papers, Vol. I, 
Haynesj p. 509. 



150 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Hangings of Forest work . . . . 89 p. 
come from Hardwick .... 2 p. 
of the story of Hercules .... 6 
of the story of the Passion ... 2 

of the Bullheade 1 

of Arras worke 1 

of small leaves 13 

of Leaves (old) 1 

oi Darrnix 14 

of Motley 16 

Cupboard clothes, of Clouds . . .10 
Carpets of needle-work cruell lined . 10 
Long carpet of Arras work .... 1 
Long carpets of Tapistree .... 20 

Long Turkey carpets 80 

Short carpet of needle-work cruell . . 1 

Short Turkey carpets lined .... 2 

Do. unlined . . .11 

Carpets of check bought of Craven 4 

Counterpaynes and Teasters of velvett and silke 

and other costly stuff. 
Item. One Cloth of State of crimson velvet and 
cloth of gold and tyssue with a fringe of crimson 
silke and gold. 
Ataffaty canopy of changeable silke, laid about with 
silver, twisted silver fringe and* buttons. Item, 
one base for the same laid about with silver 
twist and silver fringe. 
Item : one counterpane of the same. 
It. one cawle of cutt work wrought with silk upon 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 151 

wire, set with flowers with a fringe of silk and 
silver. 

One base of wood painted, for the same. 

Counterpane with a string of red and white silk. 

One top Teaster of blew velvet, lined with a blew 
changeable Taffata. 

One counterpane and 5 curtains of blew changeable 
TaflFatas for the same teaster. 

One Topp teaster of purple velvett and cloth of 
gold lined with purple and yellow sarcenet. 

One counterpane and five curtains for the same of 
purple and yellow sarcenet. 

One square teaster with valiants f the same of 
cloth of gold and tissue and white sattin embroi- 
dered with studs of silver and a fringe of silk 
and gold, embroidered with my lord's arms. 

A counterpane with the same, crimson sattiii with 
my lord's arms embroidered. 

It. one square teaster of ffugusa sattin of green 
and yellow paned with a fringe of green and 
yellow silke with counterpane of the same. 

One square teaster with Vallence f the same of 
red and white sattin of Btuges. 

One square teaster with double vallence, of Ffugusa 
sattin with a green and orange-tawney fringe 
and orange tawney sarcenet fca: the same. 

A top teaster of vestment work with a green silk 
fringe hned with green Buckram. 

A square teaster of Ash coloured silk and cloth of 



152 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Bodekin with a fringe of purple silk lined with 

harden cloth, old, 
Teaster of tawney velvet and cloth of Bodekin with 

a fringe of tawney silk lined with buckram, old. 
2 square teasters for field beds and counterpanes for 

the same of green cloth Uned with white. 
One carved teaster of wood with three posts un- 
turned. 
Counterpane of Barnix, Counterpane of Leave 

work. 
Curtains of Green Mockado. 
Curtains of ash coloured Buckram. 

Item feather bed^ 77 

Item olA. feather beds 5 

Bolsters 99 good, stuffed w*^ haire 6, un- 
fiUed 5—1 old— in aU . . . . Ill 
Item fine mattrasses I. 9. Course mattresses 69. 

It. pallet cases, item, fustians — 11 — ^item fflan- 

nell — 4. Item happing 11. lievn, ffled^es 43. 

(Item whole cloths of ffledge to make ffledges of 

peeces — 3.) 
Item white Blanquets — 116. It. Blanquets red— 4. 

Irish mantle — 1. Coverlets — 84. it. coverlets 

of List 15. Sheetes of all kinds— 150 paires. 
Square pillows covered with red silk 2. yellow silk 

2, purple 2, in all 6. 
Fustian pillows 21— leather 8 (29.) 
Long cushion of crimson velvet bothomed with 

sattin of Bruges tasheh and fringe. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 153 

Long cushions of cloth of tissue — 3, (several of 
these are at Hardwick,) and do. of silk needle 
work bothomed with Russett velvet. '' 

A great many articles like the following fill up the 
hst. 

" Another blew velvet and blew sattin of Bruges 
embroidered with studs a Lyon on it. 

Item of Flugas sattin bothomed with green change- 
able taffeta. 2 Verders QuisAions. 2 with tal- 
bots— 18. 

Chaires. 

Crimson silk and silver fringe, 1. 

Cloth of tissue fringe red and yellow. 

Crimson velvet fringe. 

Purple velvet emb. cloth of gold. 

Black velvet. 

Purple velvet, my Lord's chamber, 2." 
Here a long list of the same. 
" Greate chaire of wood for my Lord to sett in on 
S*. George's day. 

Stools many. 

Covered red velvet purled gold wire. 

Footstool crimson velvet and cloth of gold, fringe 

green and yellow silk set on vrith a lace. 
Litter stools green sattin of Bruges, green crule 

fringe 2. 

Skrens — forms, long setles. bedsteads, presses. 

cupboards. 43 tables. 



154 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

8 standing chests bound with iron 

little iron casket in my lord's bedroom 

Item, faire square chest inlaid with bone, made in 

E. Francis time with a Talbot. 
Other chests. 

Stuff in wardrobe 

red cloth for a runing horse bordered with black 
velvet, embroidered with Talbots of silver & 
lined with black buckram 
A coate for a Capf" of red cloth bordered about 
with black velvet 

Banners with the Queens arms 2 

old black bills with shafts 20 

without 18 

forest bills, javelin staves 24 

mustring coats of Damick ...... 4 ' 

I omit all iron, brass peuther &c. also what 
is in the pantry. Bakehouse, brewhouse. stables 
garden. Gallery at the lodge, stillhouse & at Castle 
& Lodge &c. 

I shall now only give a little abridgment of the 
Inv^ of what stujff the Q. of Scots & her people 
have of my Lords 

In the Q. chamber. 

Hangings of the Passions and of warres 8 pieces 
do of imagery 1 

All furniture for two beds & other utensells for 
two roomes. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 155 

A long cushion cloth of tissue 

In the chambers of the Queens household 4 bed- 
steads and jffiimiture, hanging, &c. 

Item M' Hawes chamber, furniture for 2 beds 
& 2 pallets & for M. Rawleys. M. Bergen the 
Physician. M' Curies chamber M. Vylandlaw. 
M. Jaibyth Chirurgeon. M. Bastyon. M. Diddyes. 
BaundaUs & Dillt/ Blacks bed. 

The Queens outer chambers most of them fur- 
nished with two beds & pallets hanging, cupboards, 
tables & generally but one stool, one candlestick 
and so in the master cooks & other chambers beds 
for themselves & servants 

I find but one chamber mentioned for the Queen's 
Lady, Viz* M" Seatons. in it one plain bedstead. 
2 feather beds 2 bolsters 2 p" of sheets 1 red blanket 
2 white, counterpane of small leaves coverlet, fius- 
tion. Square teaster of yellow & watchet 

damask quishions of leaves, mattresses 

Hanging of leaves 3 pieces, buffet stools 8 candle- 
sticks (&c.) cupboards 3 barrs of iron standing 
in the chimney. 

In the Queens Wardrobe. 

Item plain bedsteads 2. mattresses 2. Bolsters 3. 
pallet cases 2. blanquets 2. Coverlets 2. counterpane. 
{Sheetes one paire) fustions 1. pieces of Hangings. 

So that upon the whole I finde the appartment 
for the Q. and her servants but ordinarily furnished 
unless the Q. had some of her own. 



156 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

In the cloze of all follows a briefe note of all 
the stuflF which the Scotch people have of my L*^* 
as appeareth by the particulars in their several 
rooms. 

Hangings of imagery, forest work & leaves, 
better & worse 21. 1 long carpet. 6 short. Hang- 
ings of yellow and red say & Bawdekin old pieces 
6. feather beds 17. ffine mattresses 1, course 13. 
Bolsters 20. P. sheetes 17. Blanquets 34. ffledges6. 
flFustions 6. Happings 1. pallet cases 5. coverlets of 
yame 14. Coverlets of List 3. Counterpanes 9. 
Canopyes 1. Candlesticks 9. Buffet forms 2. Buff* 
stools 8. Andirons 8. fire shovells 3. 1 P'^ tongs. 

Besides this gen^ (abridged) Inv. of Sheffield 
Castle & Lodge, the Earl had other houses well 
furnished especially Worsksop. Rufford. Newhall 
at Pontefract. Wingfield and Tutbury. 

In one y' 600 & odd ells of cloth are named as 
put out to be bleached much linen imported f"" 
France, and wine in exchange for lead sent to Roan 
to be there sold. 20 tuns (arrivd at Hull) yearly. 
(1577 expenses of.)'' 



Mr. King, in his work on Ancient Castles,* (as 
quoted by Nichols in his " Progresses of Queen 
Elizabeth,") says, '* Hardwicke House, in Derby- 
shire, belonging to the Duke of Devonshire, con- 
taining the state apartments fitted up' by the 

♦ Archaeologia, Vol. VI. p. 301. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 157 

Countess of Shrewsbury, for the reception of the 
Queen of Scots, and on account of the designed 
visit of Queen Elizabeth, remains in its primitive 
state, with the original furniture, to this day ; and 
deserves to have a large and accurate account of 
it, as a means of conveying to the curious in time 
to come, an exact idea of the ancient style of 
living, and of the manners of that peculiar age." 

Whether there had ever been an intention, on the 
part of Elizabeth of Hardwick, to receive her name- 
sake. Queen Elizabeth, at the old or new hall, or 
not, there are rooms there fitted up with so much 
state, that it would appear not unlikely. That, 
for instance, called the Presence Chamber, is gor- 
geous beyond belief, and when aU its carving, and 
gilding, and stucco painted in relief, were fresh, the 
effect must have been splendid in the extreme. 
Even at this moment, when so much of its glory 
has departed from it, it is difficult to imagine any- 
thing more imposing than this chamber, before 
whose grandeur, the modem magnificence of Chats- 
worth itself falls into comparative insignificance. 

It is on the second floor of the building, and is 
approached by a series of stone stairs, which lead 
from the great entrance hall, having large land- 
ing places of the size of good rooms at intervals, 
and lighted by innumerable windows ; some are 
within, and unglazed, and others looking towards 
the park and gardens. The highest landing-place 
is adorned with four enormous windows in one of 



158 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

the square towers, whicli axe distinguishing fea- 
tures of the house, and gave rise to the saying, 
well known in the country : — 

" Hardvnck Hall has more glass than wall!' 

A flood of light streams here through the myriad 
panes of glass, crossed with their leaden frames 
in diamond shape : a balustrade of stone, of bold 
workmanship, surmounts the stairs, whose walls 
are covered with fine arras of bold design. A 
richly-carved wooden door with pilasters, exces- 
sively ornamented, with a cornice and entablature 
of the arms of Hardwick above it, and having 
an elaborately-worked iron lock of great beauty, 
opens into the Presence Chamber, the tapestry 
which covers the door being looped up to admit 
entrance ; by removing another fold a door at 
the side is discovered here, which opens to the 
great gallery, and between the two rooms runs a 
long dark, narrow passage of very ominous appear- 
ance, and somewhat suspicious, from the use that 
might have been made of it, as a concealment for 
Usteners in troublous times. 

The majestic chamber is now disclosed in all its 
pomp: along the walls is hung fine tapestry, whose 
boldly-executed scenes are from the Odyssey; several 
feet above this, to the ceiling, the space is covered 
with plaster figures, in relief, of Diana and her 
train, still partly retaining their colours ; they are 
occupied in various kinds of chase, and are flitting 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 159 

amongst groves of trees, aud over fields covered with 
flowers ; the groups are very original and curious, 
and the general effect extremely rich. In an im- 
mense recess, twenty feet square, formed by another 
square tower, are numerous antique treasures, lighted 
by gigantic windows, similar to those in the stair- 
case ante-room. Here now stands one of those 
gorgeously-decorated beds which are not uncom- 
mon in ancient houses; of proportions perfectly 
startling, heavy with velvet hangings, and stiff with 
gold embroidery. Every part of the bedstead is 
richly carved, even to the feet, which are elegantly 
adorned with figures and foliage. A splendid look- 
ing-glass, with a carved frame of the boldest work, 
representing animals of all kinds, amongst wreaths 
of leaves and flowers, is placed against the carved 
wall, of a darker hue and elaborate adornment. The 
velvet-covered stools and chairs are all in accord- 
ance,, and there is a table with curiously-involved 
metal work all over it, having initials interlaced, 
which it requires infinite ingenuity to decipher. 

Besides this stupendous recess, there are four 
immense windows which illumine the opposite 
walls, and the coloured and gilt arms of England 
of Elizabeth's tinae are over the fine Derbyshire 
black-and-white marble chimney-piece. The cham- 
ber is sixty-five feet long, thirty-three wide, and 
twenty-six high; at the upper extremity is a canopy 
of state, of great singularity from its style of orna- 
ment. It is of black velvet, covered with figures 



160 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

in the costume of Elizabeth's Court ; some sitting 
in a bower, some walking in the meads ; the whole 
surface being strewn with leaves, flowers, snails, 
grubs, butterflies, and other small animals. In the 
centre of the back, a lady is represented in a me- 
daUion, stepping along, supported by two courtiers, 
who attend her with infinite deference and gal- 
lantry. On the inside of the canopy, the arms of 
Hardwick, quartered with those of the Braces of 
Elgin, are worked very richly : this is probably of 
a date somewhat later. 

Before this canopy, and a row of antique velvet 
and satin chairs, embroidered in a thick raised gold 
pattern, stands a long table of inlaid wood — a great 
curiosity, which no doubt often delighted the eyes 
of EUzabeth of Hardwick, and her guests, even if 
her royal mistress never cast her glance upon it. It 
is covered with instruments of music and games, 
cards; dice, backgammon, chess, and other boards; 
music books and scrolls, with the arms of Cavendish 
and Hardwick ; and, in the centre, surrounded with 
swans, and figures of strange fish, appears a shield 
fancifully supported by nymphs and stags, gar- 
landed with eglantine; and this quaint motto, which 
might have conveyed more meaning in its time 
than it does at present : " The redolent smell of eglan- 
tine we staga exalt to the divined " Prest d'accom- 
plir" and "Cavendo, tutus," accompanying the 
mystery. 

No doubt one of those fine carpets named in the 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 161 

inventory, covered the plaster floor in the countess's 
time ; and the ceihng, which is now, unfortunately, 
merely whitewashed, must have been as magnificent 
as the rest of the chamber, the rafters, of course, 
gilded and painted, and the Hardwick and Caven- 
dish and Shrewsbury arms gleaming in great 
splendour. 

From this fine room concealed doors, covered with 
tapestry, lead into the gallery, and to one chamber, 
now a library, where hangs a fine half-length por- 
trait of Bess of Hardwick, thus inscribed on the 
back-ground, in gold letters: — 

" Elizabeth Hardwick, daughter and coheir of 
John Hardwick, of Hardwick, in the county of 
Derby : married to her second husband. Sir William 
Cavendishe of Chatsworth, in the same county. [JVo 
dates.'] She settled her third son, Charles Caven- 
dishe, at Welbeck, in the county of Nottingham. 

Cornelius Johnston." 

There is a curious alabaster chimney-piece in this 
room, having an entablature representing Parnassus 
and the Muses ; and the dim tapestry and portraits 
of the family are interesting. Two large recesses, 
each filled with light from one wide window, and a 
smaller at the side, make the room cheerful, though 
the ceiUngis lower now than when it was first built. 

The great gallery of Hardwick Hall is one of the 
most striking and magnificent that can be conceived. 

VOL. I. M 



162 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

It is one hundred and seventy feet in length, and 
twenty-three in width, and extends the whole length 
of the eastern side of the house. The height is 
about twenty-six feet, and the extreme width, in- 
cluding the window recesses, forty-one feet. There 
are ten enormous windows, filled with small diamond 
panes of glass, whose crossings subdue the Ught 
which would otherwise be too glaring. Here is 
another proof that 

" Hardwick Hall 
Has more glass tlian wall :" 

it is literally true. So numerous and so large are 
these beautiful windows, that the whole house is 
transparent, and has, in spite of being built of 
stone, with heavy framework and immensely thick 
waDs, a fairy-hke appearance at a distance. 

The gallery is crowded with pictures, chiefly of 
the family ; but those which interest most are, of 
course, of the period of the countess herself. Here 
is her own picture, three-quarter length, taken at a 
later period than that in the library. She wears a 
curled head-dress, of reddish hair, without orna- 
ment ; a small black cap, wdth a thick veil ; her 
dress is black, buttoned down the centre with a 
sort of open upper vest, a small ruff round her 
throat, and ruffles at her wrists. But the principal 
feature in the picture is a rope of pearls, consisting 
of five or six rows, of great size and immense length. 
This was probably of considerable value, as it appears 
again, worn by her daughter Mary, the wife of 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 163 

Gilbert, in a portrait of her which hangs above her 
mother's, in which she wears a rich dress, and 
has some beauty, though a shrewish expression. 
Near the countess is her last husband, the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, handsome and gentle-looking, but very 
melancholy, which is not surprising. Sir William 
Cavendish, either from the fault of nature, or the 
painter, has a countenance by no means pre- 
possessing ; and Sir William St. Loe is a fine bluff 
soldier — ^the picture in good preservation, and well 
painted. Lord Burleigh is their neighbour on the 
wall, and is a valuable portrait. 

Near her grandmother, who was so attached to 
the Uttle " jewel," is a most interesting portrait of 
Arabella Stuart, at the age of twenty-three months, 
holding a doll in her hand, which is attired in the 
costume of the day. Her brocade dress is very 
richly embroidered in a delicate pattern of green 
leaves and pink flowers ; the sleeves are wide and 
stiff, and finished with little ruffles at the wrists, 
confined by jewelled braeelets. She wears a small 
cap, of the same texture and pattern as her gown, 
with a band of gold and gems round it ; and her 
hair, which is evidently false, is reddish and 
curled, like her grandmother's ; to a chain encircling 
her neck several times, hangs a curious ornament. 
It is in the form of a scroll, surrounding a heart 
surmounted by a coronet, and the motto is, " Pour 
PARVENiR j'endure ]" an expression of hope some- 
what dangerous, considering the jealous times in 

M 2 



164 EMINENT ENOLISH WOMEN. 

which she lived, when it was requisite that 6very 
phrase should be - guarded, lest misconstruction or 
too clear comprehension, .'Bh;6uld bring the utterer 
into trouble. < However, thdr^^staiids the infantine, 
innocent being, in all the :::fei6i?y which her grand- 
mother's pride could hea{) upon her, who saw in 
her only an object of exultation, and promise of 
future greatness. She did not Uve to know the 
melancholy fate of. her whose future appeared so 
full of splendour, and which was, alas ! little less 
deplorable than, that of the unhappy Queen, with 
whom circumstances had for so many years con- 
nected the Countess of Shrewsbury. 

There are two portraits of Mary Stuart in the gal- 
lery: one very s^lall, and extremely pleasing, painted 
at an early period of her life : the other^ when care 
had banished the cheerful smiles that lighted her 
cheejc. The fet represents her fair, with hazel eyes, 
and a head-dress of soft auburn hair, confined by a 
gold and igmbrbidered net-like cap. A high small 
ruflF comes close up to her chin, which has a beautiful 
dimple ; her cheeks are deUcately tinted with the 
most transparent rose hue ; her nose is rather long, 
and the form not altogether classical : the upper lip 
is short, and the beautiful Uttle mouth rather falls 
in. The figure is not continued down to the waist: 
the bust is well formed, and the shoulders broad. 
A rich short chain surrounds the throat, and the 
habit-shirt is gaged with precision; the robe is 
light crimson, slashed with white, with gold oma- 





'^'Z" >W^ ■-'/' ^.r-z^- 



7 






COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 165 

ments. Altogether, although a little hard, it is a 
channing portrait, and was probably like the lovely 
young Queen, at the age of fifteen or sixteen, when 
she inspired the verses of her favourite poet, Ex)n- 
sard. Such she was when he addressed to her these 
lines : — 

« TO MARY STUART, QUEEN OF SCOTLAND.* 

*' All beauty granted as a boon to earth, 
That is, has been, or ever can have birth, 
Compared to her's, is void — and Nature's care 
Ne'er form'd a creature so divinely fair ! 

** In Spring, amidst the lilies, she was bom. 
And purer tints her peerless face adorn ; 
And tho* Adonis' blood the rose may paint, 
Beside her bloom the rose's hues are faint. 
With all his richest store Love deck'd her eyes ; 
The Graces each, those daughters of the skies, 
Strove which should make her to the world most dear, 
And, to attend her, left their native sphere. 

^* The day that was to bear her far a way- 
Why was I mortal to behold that day ! 
Oh ! had I senseless grown, nor heard, nor seen, 
Or that my eyes a ceaseless fount had been, 
That I might weep, as weep amidst their bowers 
The nymphs, when winter winds have cropt their flowers ! 
Or when rude torrents the clear streams deform, 
Or when the trees are riven by the storm ; 
Or, rather, would that I some bird had been 
Still to be near her in each changing scene, 
Still on the highest mast to watch all day. 
And, like a star, to mark her vessel's way ; 
The dang'rous billows past, on shore, on sea, 
Near that dear face it still were mine to be ! 

• See " Specimens of the Early Poetryof France,'? by the Author. 



166 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" Oh France ! where are thy ancient champions gone ! — 
Roland ! — Rinaldo ! — is there living none 
Her steps to follow, and her safety guard, 
And deem her lovely looks their best reward? 
Those looks that might subdue the pride of Jove, 
To leave his heaven, and languish for her love ! 
No fault is her's, save in her royal state. 
For simple love dreads to approach the great ; 
He flies from regal pomp — ^that treacherous snare, 
Where truth, unmarked, may wither in despair ! 

" Wherever destiny her path may lead, 
Fresh springing flowers will bloom beneath her tread ; 
All nature will rejoice — ^the waves be bnght — 
The tempest check its fury at her sight — 
The sea be calm, her beauty to behold — 
The sun shall crown her with his rays of gold ! — 
Unless he fears, should he approach her throne, 
Her majesty should quite eclipse his own!" 

The poet prophesied in vain ! Hearts, cold and 
ungenial as the climate of her native north, chilled 
the fortunes of the beautiful young widow whose 
early years had been passed amidst scenes of amuse- 
ment and enjoyment which she was never to see 
renewed. 

The next dark, sombre, melancholy picture, a 
large full length, in black, with a cross and rosary, 
which has often been engraved, wears more the 
colour of her fate. This might have been done as 
a present to her host and hostess, during the latter 
part of her forced sojourn with them : it has little 
beauty, and a timidity, approaching to terror, in the 
eyes, as if she were listening for the step of an 
enemy who had power over her. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 167 

Close beside this sad picture, hangs another of 
the same size ; it represents a lady in a black richly- 
embroidered robe : the back-ground seems to repre- 
sent the bars of a prison, but the whole is so dark 
and gloomy that it is difficult to make out. The 
face and figure are beautifd, but of dark com- 
plexion, and the shadows are thrown in with a 
much bolder hand. It is not unlike some of the 
portraits of Mary ; but no person ever had such dis- 
similar pictures painted of her, by which the fact is 
proved that her charm must have in a great degree 
depended on the variety of her expression, probably 
as various as the colours of which it was then the 
fashion to wear the hair ; by which last circumstance 
posterity is misled as to her real complexion. 

At Chatsworth, exists, in perfect preservation, a 
fine fuU-length portrait of Mary Stuart, by Zucchero, 
well known by Vertue's engraving ; and in this 
there is certainly more resemblance to the last^ 
named at Hardwick, than to almost any other ; but 
this is not an undmbted resemblance. 

The portraits of the unfortunate Queen are 
infinite, and, numerous as they are, are generally 
unlike each other. 

Walpole mentions having a drawing, by Vertue, 
from a genuine portrait ; " The artist," he says, 
" was a papist and Jacobite, and idolized Mary." 
This picture did not appear at the sale at Straw- 
berry Hill : he continues — 

*'At Lord Carlton's desire, and being paid 



168 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

by him, Vertue engraved a pretended portrait of 
Mary (in that nobleman's possession), but loudly 
declared his disbelief in its being genuine. Yet, 
has this portrait been copied in Freron's curious 
history of Mary Stuart, and in many other works ; 
while the real Mary, by Vertue, mth the skeleton 
and her age, has not been re-engraved." 

At Knowle there is a charming half-length por- 
trait, very young, not unlike the small one at 
Hardwick ; but I afterwards saw a copy, in enamel, 
by Bone, of this picture, with the name of Lady 
Jane Grey on it ! 

At Castle Howard, in the vale of Avoca, near 
DubUn, one is shown. 

There is one at the Marquess of Bath's, Longleat, 
curious for costume, but not pleasing. 

"Hilliard," says Walpole, "when very young, 
painted a miniature of her; and the first of all minia- 
ture painters — Oliver, did a head of her, of which 
Zinke made a fine copy, in enamel, engraved in 
Jebb's collection ; this he probably repeated. It 
was Dr. Meade's, and was bought by the late Duke 
of Cumberland." 

At Windsor there is one, said to be by Janet, 
with her execution in the back-ground. A copy of 
this by Mytens is in St. James's Palace. 

The Marquis of Ailsa possesses, at Cullean Castle, 
a very beautiful portrait of Mary, said to have been 
given by her to Lord Cassilis when he escorted her 
from France. . . 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 169 

At Newstead, is a well-preserved picture of the 
time, — a head ; but it has none of the characteristic 
features of Queen Mary* 

A curious picture of the head of Mary on a dish, 
with drapery, said to have been painted by a page 
of her's, inunediately after her execution, and 
carried by him to France, was sold at Mr. Potter 
McQueen's sale, at Brighton, in 1833. Who 
became possessor of it I know not. 

Two portraits in the British Museum are worth- 
less. 

One at Oxford is not considered genuine. 

There is an exquisite cameo of her in the King's 
Library at Paris, which bears out the idea of her 
beauty more than anything I have seen. 

At the Chateau of Chenonceau, on the Cher, are 
two ; but neither remarkable. 

A portrait of Mary exists at Greystoke Castle, 
Cimiberland, of which the following description has 
been sent to me : — ^The robe is of black velvet, the 
body fitting tight to the shape, very short-waisted, 
fastening in front, a Uttle open at the throat, and 
trimmed round the waist, the part where the sleeves 
are put in and up the front, with a narrow white 
edge, apparently a sort of braid. A black velvet 
hood, which seems made of the same piece as the 
body, covers the back of the head, and comes down 
in a small peak on the forehead. Round the throat 
is a ruff of white muslin, quilled in large reversed 
plaits; tl^e narrow white strings that fasten it end 



170 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

in small tassels, attached negligently to the opening 
of the gown in front ; round the edge of the hood, 
is a quilling of white, like the ruff, but smaller, 
which sits very square, and high off the forehead. 
The hair is frizzed into small, short curls, much 
drawn off the temples. The picture is taken to the 
waist only, and the arms are not drawn. 

John de Critz, a painter of the period, is named 
as having designed the monument of EKzabeth in 
Westminster Abbey, for King James ; he probably 
also designed that of Mary, on which the effigy is 
very beautiful. 

In a work called "Issues of the Exchequer during 
the reign of James I., by Fred. Devon," is the fol- 
lowing : — 

" 31st August. By order dated the last of July, 
1613. To William Cure, his Majesty's master mason, 
son and administrator to ComeUus Cure, late his 
Majesty's master mason, the sum of 85/. 10^. in full 
payment of 825/. 10*. for making the tomb of his 
Majesty's dearest mother, the late Queen Mary of 
Scotland, according to articles indented and agreed 
with the said Cornelius. By writ dated 19th April, 
1606. 

"Also, to James Mauncy, painter, 265/. for 
painting and gilding of a monument to be erected 
and set up amongst the rest of his Majesty's most 
honourable progenitors, within the chapel of the 
Collegiate Church of St. Peter, in Westminster, for 
the memory of his Majesty's most dearly beloved 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUIEIT. 171 

mother, the Lady Mary, late Queen of Scotland. 
14 May, 1616. 

" Also, to the Reverend father in God, Richard, 
Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, 178/. 19^. lOd. 
for disbursements in removing the body of Queen 
Mary from Peterborough to Westminster, Oct. 21, 
1612." 

To return to the portraits in the gallery at 
Haxdwick. 

There is a very curious one of James I., when a 
boy of five or six years of age, with a hawk on his 
wrist : in a stifi* doublet and hose, much puffed out, 
and red stockings. The face is extremely pretty 
and animated ; and if this, which is probable, was the 
portrait sent to the Queen during her captivity, it 
must have caused her not only many tears at being 
separated from such a child, but have raised hopes 
in her bosom, of his future amiability, — never 
destined to be realised. The painter had much to 
answer for in this flattery, for no doubt it was such, 
if, indeed, it was not a happy deception to one 
without a comfort. 

Amongst several which have but little merit, 
is one whole-length portrait of Queen Elizabeth, 
extremely striking. She is dressed in that pre- 
posterous manner which exhibits her bad taste in a 
most ludicrous light, and proves how inferior in 
this, as in other particulars, she was to her unhappy 
rival, who, like her sister-in-law, Margaret of 



172 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Valois, possessed infinite judgment in her cos- 
tume. 

Elizabeth is displayed in a very short stiff 
petticoat, embroidered with swallows and other 
birds, a whale spouting water to a great height, 
lizards, frogs, and other reptiles sprawling amidst 
golden leaves and enamelled flowers ; her feet are 
very pretty and small, and her shoes elaborately 
worked; her hands are covered with rings, and 
she is all over jewels, " rings, and things, and fine 
array," enormous double ruffs, and stiff projecting 
trimmings ; while her head, as usual, is a pjnramid 
of glittering objects. 

The fondness of EUzabeth for dress is well 
known, and it is rare indeed that she appears 
without betraying her weakness ; the artists of her 
day, doubtless by her instruction, spared no 
minute pains to depict every ornament and pattern 
of her dress, for which we are much indebted to 
their care; for, certainly, they are of the most 
gorgeous description, and, separately, are extremely 
precious and admirable. 

The list of presents received by this Queen from 
her courtiers would be of great length, for no person 
was exempt. And though she gave in return, pro- 
bably her gifts were inferior to those she exacted. 

In Lord Leicester's will he names : 

*' A token of his humble faithful heart as the 
last that evei: I cajx send hej, with prayers, &c. _ 



COUNTESS OF SHEEWSBURY. 173 

" The jewel with the three great emeralds with 
a fair large table diamond in the midst, without a 
foil, and set about with many diamonds without 
foil ; and a rope of fair white pearl to the number 
of five hundred, to hang the said jewel in : the 
which pearl and jewel were once purposed for her 
Majesty against a coming to Wanstead, but it must 
now be thus disposed." 

Elizabeth is said to have had in her possession, 
at her death, three thousand complete habits ; if 
they were all as gorgeous as that in which she 
appears at Hardwick, they must have been of 
infinite price. She is said to have more wilhngly 
accepted dresses than any other gift, though there 
is no record of her having refused any. 

In the British Museum is a MS. book of 
Donations, dated 1587, forming part of her ward- 
robe account; this year, fatal to her fame, when 
she should only have worn mourning ! 

One of the items is very laughable, and might 
almost be supposed to be recorded in derision, by 
one of those about her who endeavoured to dissuade 
her from the foolish marriage she was about to 
form with the Duke d'Alenyon. It stands thus : 

" Item : One little flower of gold wiih a frogg 
thereon and therein Mounsier his phimamye, and a 
little pearl pendant.'' 

Then foUow other presents from favourites of the 
day :— 



174 EMINENT ENOLISHWOMEN. 

" item : a little bottle of amber with a foot of 
gold, and on the top thereof a bear mth a ragged 
staff (Leicester). 

" item : a toothe picke of gold, Uke a bitterns 
clawe, garnished with four diamonds, four rubies 
and four emeralds, being all but sparkes. 

" item : a nuttcracke of gold garnished with 
sparkes of diamonds : 

" item : a cawle, with nine true-loves of pearl 
and seven buttons of gold, in each button a rubie." 

A letter is extant from a Jewess, named Espe- 
ranza Malchi, accompanying several articles of 
dress, sent to her Majesty from the Queen-mother 
of Constantinople; it is written in anything but 
" choice Italian," and is thus rendered : 

*' As the sun with its rays shines upon the earth, 
so the virtue and greatness of your Majesty extend 
over the whole universe; so much so that those who 
are of different nations and laws desire to serve 
your Majesty. This I say as to myself who, being 
a Hebrew, by law and nation, have, from the first 
hour that it pleased the Lord God to put it into 
the heart of our most serene Queen-Mother to 
make use of my services, ever been desirous that 
an occasion might arise on which I might show 
that disposition which I cherish. 

" Besides, your Majesty having sent a distin- 
guished Ambassador into this kingdom with a 
present for the most serene Queen, my mistress, 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 176 

inasmuch as she has been willing to make use of 
my services she has found me ready : and now, at 
the departure of the most noble Ambassador alluded 
to, the most serene Queen wishing to prove to 
your Majesty the love she bears you, sends to your 
Majesty by the same Illustrious Ambassador a robe 
and a girdle, and two kerchiefs wrought in gold, 
and three vn'ought in silk, after the fashion of this 
kingdom, and a necklace of pearls and rubies :* the 
whole the most Serene Queen sends to the Illus- 
trious Ambassador by the hand of the Sieur Bos- 
tanggi Basi, and by my own hands I have deUvered 
to him a wreath of diamonds, hoxa the jewels of her 
Highness, which she says your Majesty will be 
pleased to wear for the love of her, and give infor- 
mation of the receipt. And your Majesty, being a 
lady full of condescencion, I venture to prefer the 
following request, viz. that since there are to be 
met with in your kingdom distilled waters of every 
description for the face, and odoriferous oils for the 
hands, your Majesty will favour me by transmitting 
some by my hand for this most serene Queen. £y 
my hand, as, being articles for ladies, she do^ not 
wish them to pass through other hands. Likewise, 
if there are to be. had in your kingdom cloths of silk 
or wool, articles of fancy suited for so high, a Queen 

• Perhaps this is the very robe and jewels in which Queen 
Elizabeth caused herself to foe painted as she appears, in an 
Eastern dress, very splendid, standing in a grove amongst birds 
and emblematical devices, with her arm round the neck of a stag. 
The picture is now at Hampton Court. 



176 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

as my mistress, your Majesty may be pleased to send 
them, as she will be more gratified by such objects 
than any valuable your Majesty could send her. 

" I have nothing further to add but to pray to 
Grod that he may give you the victory over your 
enemies, and that your Majesty may ever be pro- 
sperous and happy. Amen. 

'' From Constantinople, 16 Nov'. 1599. 
Your Majesty's most humble, 

ESPERANZA MaLOHI." 



Whether the magnificent Venetian looking-glass 
which stands beneath Queen Elizabeth's portrait in 
the gallery at Hardwick, was a present from the 
sovereign, or a purchase of the countess's, it is one 
of remarkable beauty and singularity : its fellow is 
to be seen at Chatsworth, and both are fine speci- 
mens. The glass is very clear, though the colour is 
a little dark ; and its frame is of the same, with 
silver ornaments and crystals set as jewels roimd 
it. This antique piece of furniture, which is of 
unusual size, reflects well the length of the gallery 
with all its treasures. 

In the centre of the room is a canopy of velvet 
and rich embroidery, and the chants, sofas, and 
stools are all of equal antiquity, very much worn, 
but stm splendid. The chimney-pieces, of which 
there are two of immense height, are very elaborate, 
of black-and-white Derbyshire marble and alabaster, 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 177 

tod surmounted with large medallions of figures, 
representing Pity and Mercy. In one of the 
recesses hangs a very curious drawing, in Indian 
ink, nearly the size of Ufe, of the tyrant father of 
Queen EUzabeth, very boldly executed, with all 
the disagreeable attributes which characterize that 
monarch. 

The chimney-pieces in almost every room in 
Hardwick New Hall are peculiarly fine ; in general 
larger, bolder, and of better execution than those in 
the old Hall ; but still on the same plan. In the 
great and fine chamber in the old Hall, which is 
considered a model of proportion, the walls are 
covered with carved arches, one above another, and 
the cornices much ornamented : the chimney-piece 
reaches to the ceiling, and the shield of the arms 
of Hardwick is sustained on each side by gigantic 
figures, more massive than graceful, from which the 
room has obtained the title of the Giant's Chamber. 
OvCT several otha* fire-places great luxury of orna- 
ment is indulged in, and this it appears the coun- 
tess resolved to imitate on even a grander plan. 
AU the rooms in the New Hall are on a more ex- 
tended scale, and the artists employed seem to have 
been superior. The dining-room, os it now stands, 
can scarcely give an idea of its former grandeur, as 
the ceiling is several feet lower than the original 
height. The chimney-piece here is very much orna- 
mented, and these words in gold letters admonish 
the beholder : 

VOL. I. N 



178 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" The end of all things is to fear God and keep 
his commandments'' 

The emblazoned arms of the fomidress are not 
forgotten here, nor are her initials of "E.S." which 
occur wherever it is possible to place them : on the 
wails, the hangings, screens, cushions, carpets — 
everywhere the glorious " E. S." appear to teU the 
world under whose auspices all this splendour was 
accumulated. Much of the embroidery still pre^ 
served is marked with the countess's name and 
arms, and is of the richest gold thread intermixed 
with silver and gold spangles, garnets and foil. 
The patterns are very tasteful and elegant ; by na 
means inferior to any of the present day, and far 
more costly than could now be afforded. The work 
which bears the initials, mottos, and arms of Mary 
Stuart is in general extremely fine, but less resplen- 
dent with gold and silver; it is usually for cushions ; 
and a favourite subject is the fables of iEsop, and 
a representation of the Virtues, with fanciful attri- 
butes. Mysterious mottos occasionally accompany 
the pictured wonders, and for these Elizabeth of 
Hardwick seemed also to have a peculiar taste. 
Qver the fijre-place in one fine room, anudst a maze 
of carved stone, may be read a somewhat vain- 
glorious inscription, in gold letters, beneath the 
arms of Hardwick, supported by their stags, which 
proclaims that, however noble that animal may be 
by nature, he is exalted by sustaining the shield of 
so important a family ! 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBUET. 179 

There is scarcely a chamber in this interesting 
mansion, where similar indications of the countess's 
taste, as well as vanity, are not displayed; and so 
much and various are the ornaments, and so nimier- 
ous and elaborate are the rooms, that amusement 
and interest may be found to occupy the time 
during a long residence, in one of the most curious 
houses in the kingdom. 

There is a very lofty and magnificent entrance- 
hall, hung with tapestry of comparatively modem 
date ; the original having fallen from the walls from 
age ; no doubt it belonged, with much besides, frag- 
ments of which are still preserved, to the old house : 
it is of the fifteenth century ; and, though singular, 
has httle grace or beauty to recommend it to any but 
an antiquarian's eye, in which it is precious. At the 
upper end of the hall is a pretty modem statue of 
Queen Mary, by Westmacott, — how valuable would 
be an ancient one ! 

There is not a room in Hardwick Hall which does 
not deserve especial description, each in its kind 
being so fine and remarkable. Long suites of bed- 
chambers, hung with antique tapestry? lead from one 
magnificent room to another, forming vistas which 
terminate in some ivy-adomed window, looking out 
far into the park filled with deer, and giving glimpses 
of distant hills and cultivated country. All seems to 
have been constracted for state and splendour and 
the accommodation of guests. There is no evidence 
of servants' rooms ; and it would appear that they 

N 2 ■ 



180 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

must all have been placed either in the chambers of 
the old hall, near, or in a range of buildings, whose 
roofs may be discerned at a little distance amongst 
the trees. 

There is, however, no want of kitchens, which 
are spacious and lofty, and the range of rooms 
appertaining to them is of due importance. 

Amongst others, there are a few bed-chambers,, 
of a more striking character, which arrest the atten- 
tion as the stranger wanders through their silent re- 
treats, and pauses at the threshold of some, hitherto 
unvisited. One of these, a lofty square room^ 
lighted by enormous windows to the ceiling, has 
a very solemn aspect. In the centre stands a bed, 
whose pale yellow satin hangings once blazed with 
gold, and whose head-board displayed, in bright 
colours, arms and shields and scrolls in raised 
work. To soften this, the walls are hung with 
tapestry of subdued tints, representing grave sub- 
jects, which, tradition says, was worked by the captive 
Queen, whose thoughts were bent on serious themes 
while her needle wrought a series of figures in 
niches, representing the Virtues. Here look down 
from their proud recesses, where considerable archi- 
tectural knowledge is displayed, Lucretia, with Chas- 
tity accompanying her in a corresponding niche; 
Penelope and Patience, tv«dns also ; Artemesia, Con- 
stans, Pietas, Perseverance, and others, each with her 
style and title, in large characters, inscribed above her 
head. The gold and silver thread, the spangles and 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 181 

foil, which once set ojff the borders of these histories, 
have almost all dropped off with age, as dropped 
the hopes, one by one, of her whose melancholy 
leisure allowed her to perform so tedious a work. 

The fire-place in this room is highly ornamented 
with carvings, in black, white, and gold; the 
involved scroUs inclosing shields of the arms of 
Hardwick, Cavendish, and Shrewsbury. There 
are high-backed chairs of every pattern — ^wrecks 
of past splendour — ^with cushions of dim satin 
and raised velvet,, once dazzling -and gorgeous to 
behold, but whose green leaves are now eclipsed 
by the colour of the bright ivy, which, climbing up 
to the diamonded casement, peeps laughing into 
the chamber, chequering the sxm-light that streams 
through the panes, as if it gloried in its own youth, 
still retained amongst the faded forms of art, of which 
its grey and knotted roots below are contemporary. 

Another fine solemn chamber is entered from 
that which is now the library, by lifting up the 
heavy tapestry, and opening a door inlaid with the 
favourite scrolls and initials of the Lady of Hard- 
wick. Here now stand, in great pomp, two beds 
of deep red hue, highly decorated ; but all is here so 
changed by time from its former brilliant aspect, that 
they seem as though they were the originals of those 
deeply-shadowed, yet gorgeously adorned canopies 
of Rembrandt, which, seen in flashes of bright Ught, 
reveal their riches, and then retire to gloom, conceal- 
ing all their glories in heavy folds shrouded by broad 



182 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

dark shade. Above the pieced tapestry of this cham- 
ber, the walls seem once to have been covered, in com- 
partments, with black and white Derbyshire marble, 
of which material, also, the highly-adorned chimney- 
piece is formed, and the cases of the carved doors. 

Here looks moumfuUy from the hangings a figure, 
which is easily recognized as from the same hand 
which traced the other Virtues. Probably, Queen 
Maiy wished that her own features and form should 
appear in the semblance of Faith ; for there is a 
certain likeness to her later pictures in the sad, 
grave, subdued face of this personage; who is 
dressed in her costume, and holds a cup and 
inscribed book. Beside her is a cross — h^ only 
consolation in affliction. 

The mosaic of these walls is remarkable : the 
anxiety to preserve all that could be found of ancient 
work known to carry with it a peculiar interest, has 
caused a great variety of fragments to be placed, 
side by side, upon the walls, so that there is a 
complete study of the industry of the time. ^ A 
huge Saracen here recUnes at the feet of a figure of 
Christian fidelity; a Roman conqueror beside a 
lamb, or stag, in its native shades ; a waterfall 
comes rushing down amongst shells and botanical 
specimens of Asiatic plants. The pompous " E. S." 
and all her mottos, shine forth from pannels of 
crimson velvet, beside fragments of black, *' in- 
scribed with woe," bearing the initials of the captive 
in the often-recurring pattern she affected. 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 183 

All this — ^which, if not belonging to the spot, 
would carry with it but little interest — ^is precious to 
the last morsel, and gives rise to endless specula- 
tions as to the fair workers of these once gorgeous 
pieces, which far outshone, in their day, all that 
modem industry can produce; for the cost of the 
gold thread, spangles, and firings, would appal the 
diligent Penelopes of our day. 

There exists in a passage-chamber, from which 
open several fine rooms, some very beautiful speci- 
mens of gilt leather, in high preservation, presenting 
a superb appearance. A chamber, now used as a 
general sitting-room, leads from this; and some 
of the usually occupied bed-rooms, where carved 
chimneys, rich with emblazoned stags and shields 
of arms, prevent the proud foundress from fading 
from the memory for a moment. 

There is a b^utiful room, rather smaller than 
usual, lighted by one of those magnificent win- 
dows which are the boast of Hardwick, round 
which the glossy wreaths of ivy cluster, and from 
whence the mysterious ruins of the old Hall are 
clearly seen. Below extends the garden court, on 
whose beds modem ingenuity, probably following 
some old plan, has guided the flowers into the form 
of two gigantic letters, answering to the transparent 
^*E. S." of the parapets. 

The walls of this room are of Gobelin work, and 
represent quaint scenes of the adventures of certain 
wandering and industrious cupids, who are now 



184 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

busied in dragging a boat over a difficult passage, 
now in guiding it through gentle waves ; while its 
course is accompanied by attendants, crowned with 
oak and ivy and flowers,, who breathe soft sounds 
from the flute, and martial notes from the trumpet, as 
their bark glides on by rock and tree and cataract. 

The bed which stands in this sylvan scene is 
white, embroidered in green and crimson cruels^ 
with heavy fringes of the same colours. Huge 
talbots are rampant on the chimney-piece, support*- 
ing the well-known shield of Shrewsbury. Evea 
the small dressing closet attached has its diamond'- 
paned window, excluding gloom, as is the case 
everywhere in this palace of light. 

The next chamber has similar characteristics of 
wide casements, affording fine views, carved and 
tapestried walls, varied, however, by deep red cloth 
hangings to the gigantic bed, bordered with silver; 
and the supporters of the chimney being a sylvan 
god and goddess, wreathed with flowers, very much 
in the fashion of the giiants of the old Hall. 

There is ceaseless entertainment in the review of 
these various antique treasures, such as no modern 
house can afford ; for mere splendour and ornament 
do not awaken the same mysterious feeling ; nor do 
even the master, works of art, hanging from walls 
to which they have been transplanted^ give the 
same pleasure as when seen in spots to which they 
originally belonged. The portraits in the gallery (rf 
Hardwick have a ten-fold value, seen there ; and 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 185 

the old tapestry, faded and worn, could be replaced 
by nothing so appropriate. It is thus that the great 
works of Raphael and his compeers have a double 
charm — ^beheld on the very spots where the immortal 
pencil was employed : thus the decaying sculptures 
of Greece and Rome gain by their surrounding 
ruins : thus the unformed strange stones of Druid 
worship are more awful on their desolate moors 
before modem utility had cultivated the waste near 
which they stand. 

Every piece of ancient furniture, every decayed 
picture, every worn morsel of embroidery, is worthy 
of examination within those walls to which they 
legitimately belong, or to which they may with 
propriety be transported as to a home. Such effect 
have venerable buildings, that the great collection 
of the Hotel Cluny, at Paris, would lose half its 
charm if seen in a modem museum, even though 
little that is there stored belongs precisely to the 
spot ; but the present taste for ancient fmmiture in 
new houses is far from admirable, for all the illusion 
is destroyed by the novel position into which those 
curious relics of a time gone by are thrust without 
a reason. 

The exterior of new Hardwick Hall is extremely 
imposing. It stands a few hundred yards back- 
warder, on the summit of the hill on which both 
are erected, than the old Hall, whose ivy-covered 
ruins form a good object from its myriad windows. 
It is built with such exact proportion, and so 



186 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

compactly, that, at first, its size does not appear 
so great as it is, and it is only on examination that 
the really gigantic dimensions become apparent. 

On approaching through the beautifully undu* 
lating park, the eye is dazzled and almost con- 
fiised by the singular ornaments which crown its 
numerous square towers, and seem to form a series c£ 
mazes on the top in all directions. This, together 
with the innumerable and enormous windows, give 
inexplicable lightness and singularity to the whole 
fabric. A low wall surrounds the front court, now 
a pretty flower-garden, such as probably existed 
there originally ; along which runs a row of orna- 
ments of strange form, while at each angle and 
over the gateway are shields and huge scrolls cut 
into ' more shapes than stone seems capable of 
allowing. 

On a nearer approach, that which looked con- 
fused becomes harmonious, and the blue sky shines 
through a range of enormous "E. S." 's supported by 
bands of waving stone, forming an elegant parapet 
on each of the six towers which guard the majestic 
pile. 

On the whole, the effect of this fine building is 
unsurpassed, and the design and execution give a 
vast idea of the mind of her who undertook and 
accomplished it. 

But, unapproachable as Hardwick appears in 
grandeur, it seems that a neighbour of the coun- 
tess presumed to attempt to rival her by erecting 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 187 

a fine house on a hill at some little distance, then, 
and now, called Sutton Hall. Elizabeth, enraged 
at this daring infringement on her assumed rights, 
vowed that she would build a tenement for otds 
quite equal in splendour to the ambitious construc- 
tion of her neighbour. 

It is said that the result of her angry r^olve was 
a mansion called Oldcotes, or Owl-cots, which, 
perhaps, was never fiinished, and is now a farm- 
house; while Sutton, once the residence of the 
Duke of Ormonde, is one of the finest houses of 
its size in the county. 

T!\ie furor of the countess for building seemed 
insatiable, and there is no knowing how many 
more mansions she would have erected if a hard 
frost, in the year 1607, had not obliged her work- 
men to stop suddenly : the spell was broken, the 
charm was ended, the astrologer^s prediction veri- 
fied: " Elizabeth of Hardwick could build no longer, 
— ^and she died." 

It is true that her years were verging on ninety, 
if, indeed, she had not passed that bourne; but 
BtUl it was believed that, but for that fatal frost, 
her age would have extended beyond the usual 
days of man. 

She died, however, in February, 1607, at Hard- 
wick Hall, the scene of her latter years of triumph. 
In an old parchment roll, recording the events 
which occurred in the coimty of Derby, is the foU 
lowing record : — 



188 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" 1607. The old Countess of Shrewsbury died 
about Candlemas this year, whose funeral was about 
Holy Thursday. A great frost this year, A hot 
fortnight about James's-tide. The witches of 
Bakewell hanged!' The latter clause is somewhat 
striking. 

She was buried in the church of All Saints or 
AU-HaUows, at Derby. The fine mural monument 
which is still to be seen there was erected during 
her life, and under her own inspection. In a recess, 
in the lower part, is her figure, in the costume of the 
time ; her head reclining on a cushion, and her hands 
uplifted in the attitude of prayer. 

Beneath is the following inscription, in Latin, 
which contains her history in little : 

" To the memory of Elizabeth, the daughter 
of John Hardwick, of Hardwick, in the county 
of Derby, Esq. and, at length, co-heiress to her 
brother John. She was married first to Robert 
Barley, of Barley, in the said county of Derby, 
Esq., afterwards to William Cavendish, of Chats- 
worth, knight, treasurer of the chamber to the 
Kings Henry VIII. and Edward VI., and Queen 
Mary, to whom he was also privy counsellor. 
She then became the wife of Sir WiUiam St. Low, 
captain of the guard to Queen Elizabeth. Her 
last husband was the most noble George (Talbot), 
Earl of Shrewsbury. 

" By Sir WiUiam Cavendish alone she had issue. 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY 189 

** This was three sons, namely : Henry Cavendish, 
of Tutbury, in the county of Stafford, Esq. who 
took to wife, Grace, the daughter of the said 
George, Earl of Slu-ewsbury, but died without 
legitimate issue. William, created Baron Caven^ 
dish of Hardwick, and Earl of Devonshire, by 
his late majesty, king James, and Charles Caven- 
dish, of Welbeck, knight, father of the most 
honourable Wflliam Cavendish, on account of his 
great merit, created knight of the Bath, Baron 
Ogle, by right of his mother, and Viscount 
Mansfield, Earl, Marquis, and Duke of Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne, and Earl Ogle, of Ogle. She had also 
an equal number of daughters: namely, Frances, 
married to Sir Henry Pierrepoint, Elizabeth, to 
Chariies Stuart, Earl of Lennox, and Mary, to 
Gilbai;, Earl of Shrewsbury. This very celebrated 
Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury, built the 
houses of Chatsworth, Hardwick, and Oldcotes, 
highly distinguished for her magnificence, and 
finished her . transitory life, on the 13th day of 
February, in the year 1607, and about the 87th 
year of her age ; and, expecting a glorious resur- 
rection, lies interred underneath." 

Although there are, unfortunately, not many 
virtues to record as belonging to this remarkable 
woman, her magnificence seems to have directed 
itself towards charity and pious erections. She 
indulged her love of building in beautifying 
AU-Hallows Church, in Derby, great part of 



190 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

the aisle on the south east being built by her 
for a burying-place for herself and the Cavendish 
family, from whom she desired not to be separated, 
even in death. 

She estabUshed a row of Almshouses in Full 
Street, near the church, for eight men and four 
women: leaving funds to support them. These 
poor people are allowed two shiUings and sixpence 
a week, and twenty shiUings a year for a blue 
gown, and silver badges, having the well-known 
and widely-disseminated " E. S.'* and a coronet 
above. They are obliged to come in order to 
church, to their seat behind the reading desk, 
every time there is divine service. 

Additions have been made to this charity by 
others of her family. The men are named by 
the Dukes of Devonshire, and are either old 
disabled servants of the family, or old decayed 
burgesses of Derby recommended by the mayor 
and aldermen ; three of the women are every other 
time nominated out of the several parishes of 
Derby, the duke chooses the remaining one. One 
of the men, who is a kind of governor in the 
house, reads prayers to the rest privately. 

Her name is mentioned several times in accounts 
of donations to the poor of Derby. 

When EUzabeth of Haxdwick was at her last 
extremity, the little affection of aU those who 
surrounded her becomes too apparent by their 
letters to each other. They were evidently on 



COUNTESS or SHREWSBURY. 191 

the tiptoe of expectation to share her great wealth ; 
and, while some professed anxiety for the other's 
welfare, it is clear their own was not lost sight of. 

Thus Gilbert, Earl of Shrewsbury, writes to the 
spendthrift, Henry Cavendish, his sister Grace's 
husband, and the eldest son of the countess, 
warning him of the intentions of his brother 
WiUiam, Baron Cavendish, his mother's favourite : 

" When I was at Hardwick she did eat very 
little, and not able to walk the length of the 
chamber betwixt two, but grew so ill at it as 
you might plainly discern it. On New Year's 
Eve, when my wife sent her New Year's gift, 
the messenger told us she looked pretty well, 
and spake heartily; but my lady wrote that she 
was worse than when we last saw her, and Mrs. 
Digby sent a secret message that her ladyship 
was so ill that she could not be from her day 
nor night. I heard that direction is given to 
some at Wortley to be in readiness to drive away 
all the sheep and cattle at Ewden instantly wpon 
her ladyship s death. 

"These being the reasons that move me thus 
to advise you, consider how like it is that when 
she is thought to be in danger, your good brother 
will think it time to work with you to that effect, 
and, God forgive me if I judge amiss, I verily 
think that, till of late, he hath been in some hope 



192 EXI9BKT S96LISHWOMSN. 

to have seen your end befinre hers, by leaflon of 
jonr sickliness and discontentment of mind. To 
conclode, I wish and advise you to take no hold of 
any offer that shall be made nnto yon, &c. &c. 

^* Yon have not been forgot to my lad^, neither 
for yoorself nor for Chatsworth, bnt we have 
forebome to write you thereof, knowing that one 
of your brother's prindpallest means to keq> us 
all so divided one from another, &c. 

" 4th Jan. 1607." 

Earl Gilbert begs that this letter may be burnt, 
nevertheless, it is still extant, which would argue 
that the sincerity of the writer was not altogether 
trusted in. 

The death of the countess seems not to be 
deeply deplored by her friends, if we may judge by 
the following : — 

PROM SIR HERBERT CROFT TO MY LORD. 

" Though I profess not to rejoice in the death of 
any, yet seeing there is a time especially for old 
folks to pay the debt due to nature, I hope it will 
be allowed me to be glad that what others have 
enjoyed, as long as it pleased God, is now, in the 
just course of right, come unto your lordship ; for 
which, and all other good fortunes that your lordship 
shall be pleased with, I shall ever joy, as one that 
is," &c. 



COUNTESS OP SHREWSBURY. 193 

Sir John Bentley writes to Thomas Eltofts, Esq. 
thus : — 

" Cousin, — Your news rid post where good news 
goes scarce a pace : it is neither news nor wonder, 
that the Countess Dowager is dead ; but that she is 
dead to me, they who knew my respects of her, may 
justly marvel she took such empty leave, to ffive me 
nothing. Yesterday's experience hath bred this 
day's wisdom, and hath taught me whom to serve 
and whom to honour ; for worldly hopes are idle 
and micertain. * * * The late countess bequeathed 
me only one legacy, a dirty journey to London to 
witness her last loilL * * * 

" I have no more to say, but I have bought hopes 
and kindness at a dear rate. 

" The Lord Cavendish, Mr. William, his sister, 
myself, John Clay, John Needham, and all the 
women but Mrs. Digby, and Cartwright, and all the 
men of note but Pudsey, attended the corpse to 
Derby on Tuesday. Multitudes came in to behold 
our coming. The Baylivs slept with us, and pre- 
sented wine and two sugar loaves to his Lordship. 
Feb. 18, 1607." 

Sir John Bentley loses no time in writing to the 
new countess, and professing his services, saying, 
he was better treated by her than by the old lady, 
whom he had served thirty years. 

Probably, Mary, Countess of Shrewsbury, " felt 

VOL. I. o 



194 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

or feigned" some sorrow on her mother's death; as 
the Earl of Salisbury thinks it necessary to condole 
with her on the decease of the " great and aged 
countess," as he calls her, in a letter to her hus- 
band, announcing the intended visit of Lady Ara- 
bella Stuart to them. He says, " I will not offer 
counsel to my lady, but good wishes ; only I will 
remember her, that that noble lady's state is better 
, than her own, and, therefore, in mourning she doth 
her wrong whom she so much loved. 17th Feb., 
1607." 

In a letter, immediately after, in which he laments 
the sickness of Lady Arabella, probably occasioned 
by sadness for the loss of one who really loved her, 
and to whom she was probably attached. Lord 
Sahsbury says, — "I would be very glad your 
Lordship could send me any rough draught of 
Hardwick." 

Unfortunately, there remains no picture of the 
mansion done at the period of its foundress ; but, 
except in the arrangement of the grounds, it pre- 
sents, probably, the very same aspect now as then. 
No doubt, the reason for Lord SaUsbury's curiosity 
was that many persons, on the countess's death, 
were eager to gain information respecting a man- 
sion she had spent so many years in building ;— 

" Being, as it was, much talk'd of.'* 

Thus closed the life of this remarkable woman, 
who, for nearly a century, exercised so great an 



COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 195 

influence over some of the most distinguished cha- 
racters of her period. 

The fortunes of her grand-daughter are intimately 
connected with her own, though her proud spirit 
was spared the pain of witnessing the downfal of 
all her ambitious hopes, and the melancholy fate of 
one so dear to her. 



o 2 



ARABELLA STUART. 




ARABELLxi STUART. 



The early years of the unfortunate grand-daughter 
of EUzabeth of Shrewsbury were passed under her 
care. Whatever might have been the harshness 
of character of the Lady of Hardwick, she seemed 
capable, on some occasions, of feeling strong affec- 
tion ; and, in her later years, the orphan child of 
her daughter was an object on which she fixed 
all her tenderness. Queen EUzabeth, . although 
extremely indignant at the presumption of the 
family in allying themselves with the house of 
Stuart, and startled, at first, at the consequences 
which might result from the birth of another heir 
to the two crowns, was induced to forgive the 
dangerous step which EUzabeth Cavendish had 
taken, by the contrivance of her poUtic mother; 
who had, doubtless, many artful arguments to 
produce, proving to the Queen, that, instead of 
being likely to injure her interests, the circum- 
stance would act as a check upon the aspiring hopes 



200 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

of the adherents of James, or of his ill-starred 
mother. Certain it is that the Queen, although 
she caused all the parties concerned in the marriage 
to be placed for a time under arrest, soon mode- 
rated her anger ; and, after the death of Arabella's 
parents, which occurred while she was yet an 
infant, took the child under her protection, and 
even allowed her to be considered as her probable 
heir — ^if we may judge by the Queen's remark to 
the French ambassadress, to whom she is reported 
to have obsei-ved, on one occasion, pointing to 
Arabella: "Do you see that Uttle girl? simple 
as she looks, she is one day to sit in this very chair 
of state, and take my place." 

It does not seem that she exercised any particular 
liberaUty in her behalf, to judge by the earnest 
entreaties, addressed by the old countess, that her 
mother's pension should be continued to the 
orphan; but the granting of a maintenance to 
either, is, of itself, a somewhat surprising act on 
the part oi the Queen, who was by no means fond 
of loading her subjects with pensions and gifts. 

The date of Arabella's birth is not clearly ascer- 
tained within a year or two; but it was, pro- 
bably, in 1575 or 1576, as the young Countess of 
Lennox appears as a widow soon after that time. 

It would be a curious mystery disclosed, could the 
conversations of the Countess of Shrewsbury, and 
her husband's captive, be brought to light. Then, 
perhaps, would be, revealed, consultations relative 




Mss£.SGe>taii£a. O*^, 



yirom Staark 



/ 



'jaPTEO I3y I^I^/x-M/SS/OAr fHOMT/if: iJA'/.^IJV:-/L r'ORT/s:^-17T /JV TJiJ. /-'CSSf.'SSIJAT 



ARABELLA STUART. 201 

to the future, in which Queen Mai^, in all the 
energy of hope, promised honours, dignities, and 
wealth — ^the darhng object of the countess — to 
her and her family, if they would espouse her cause 
against her rival; and, but for the sleepless vigi- 
lance of Elizabeth, the scheme would not have been 
soon abandoned. Although the celebrated letter 
attributed to Mary, in which so much petty scandal 
is detailed, is unUkely to be written by her ; yet 
she speaks, in her undoubted correspondence, of 
secret communications and vehement promises from 
the countess — ^who was then all-powerful with her 
husband — ^which, were they all repeated, would 
have told strange tales. 

The letter alluded to was said to have been found 
in a stone chest, in the garden at Hatfield, two feet 
from the surface of the earth, rolled up in woollen. 
This was, no doubt, a fabrication, invented to 
injure Mary ; nevertheless, there is little doubt that 
much that was never written or buried beneath the 
ground, but uttered secretly where stone walls were 
alone witness, passed between the captive and san- 
guine Queen and her ambitious companion. 

The turret chambers^ of Wingfield, now open to 
the sky of heaven, and mantled with ivy — where 
huge shrubs flourish in the Queen's chambers, and 
the traveller marks, from the small loopholes, the 
way by which the unhappy captive saw her friends 
approach, and made them signals — those turrets, 
perhaps, heard the words of hope and triumph 



202 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

spoken by the female confederates, v^-s well as the 
wailings of despair uttered by the forsaken sovereign, 
when she "braste out in complainings of her estate ! " 

Perhaps, in the tower garden at Ghatsworth, 
where the royal prisoner was permitted to take the 
air, in a confined space, surrounded by a deep lake, 
on whose steps stood armed guards, watching her 
movements through the iron bars of the gate which 
admitted her entrance : here, perhaps, accompanied 
by her hostess — ^the sentinels being placed on the 
bridge below — ^they held long colloquies, in which 
treason to Elizabeth, and loyalty to Mary, were 
discussed with deep and eager interest. 

But the birth of Arabella opened to the scheming 
countess a new field. The powerless Mary sank 
gradually in the scale, and the triumphant and 
active, and well-served Elizabeth, prompt and bold, 
and every year more and more successful, as the 
friends of her rival fell ofi", shone forth in her eyes 
as a safer guide. The countess saw before her a 
long line of monarchs sprung from her daughter, 
and the sooner Fate disposed of the wretched Mary, 
the sooner^ might her own progeny reign over 
the two kingdoms, for whose sovereignty such a 
coil was made. 

Then came the breach between the plotters, and 
the anger of the Earl, who had, perhaps, been 
betrayed into participation of their plans; and 
when he saw himself deserted by the prime mover, 
was overcome with fear and late remorse. Then 



ARABELLA STUART. 203 

sank the spirits and health pf poor Mary; and 
then began all the mortifications and vexations 
which harassed the unlucky earl to the end. 

Meantime, a check was put to the aspiring 
visions of Elizabeth of Shrewsbury, in the prema- 
ture death of her daughter, whose assumption of 
the fatal name of Stuart brought with it the 
attendant sorrows which waited upon that devoted 
family: and now on young Arabella alone rested 
the remaining chance of success in the great game 
in which monarchs held stakes. 

The countess, at this time, addresses Lord Burgh* 
ley, representing the situation of her orphan charge, 
and thus exerts her eloquence to obtain for her a 
sufficient income : however great might have been 
the property of the prudent grandmother, she, 
probably, considered it better to plead poverty, 
lest the Queen should suppose her capable of 
providing more money for her dependants than 
might be safe. 

She writes— but without the date of the year — at 
the period when Arabella was seven years old. 

"After my very hartye comendatyons to your 
good Lo : where yt pleased ^he Queue's MslV my 
most Gracyous Soufaryne, upon my humble suit, to 
graunte unto my late daughter Lennox foure hon- 
dryth pounds, and to her deare and only daughter 
Arbella towe hondryth poundes yerely, for ther 
better mayntennance, assyned out of parsyll of 



204 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

the land of her iqherytance ; whereof the foure 

hondryth go now at her Ma*^* dysposytyon, by the 

death of my daughter Lennox, whom it pleased , 

God (I doute not in mercye for her good, but to 

my no small grefe,) in her best tyme, to take out of 

this world, whom I can not yet remember but with 

a sorrowfull trobuled mjmde. I am now, my good 

L. to be an humble suiter to the Queue's majesty, 

that yt may please her to confyrme that graunt of the 

whole si5t hondryth pounds yerely, for the educatyn 

of my dearest juyll Arbella, wherein I assuredly 

trust to her Majesty's most gracyous goodnes, who 

never denyed me any Sute; but by her most 

bountyfull and gracyous favors every way, hath so 

much bound me, as I can never thinke myselfe able 

to dyscharge my dutye in all faythful service to 

her Majesty. I wyshe not to Uve after I shall 

wyllyngly fayle in any parte therof to the best 

of my powar. And as I know your Lo. hath 

especyall care for the orderinge of her Majestie's 

revenewes and of her estate every way, so trust 

I you wyll conseder of the pore infant's case, who I 

under her Ma*^ ys to appeale onely to your Lo. for ] 

succor in all har dy stresses ; who, I trust, can not 

dyslyke of this my sute in her behalfe, consedering 

the charges incydent to her brenging up. For 

altho she were ever wher her mother was during 

her lyfe, yet can I not now lyke she should be 

heare nor in any place else wher I may note 

sometymes see her and dayly heare of her, and 



ARABELLA STUART. 206 

therfore charged with kepynge howse where she 
muste be with such as ys fyt for her caiding, of 
whom I have specyall care, not only such as a 
naturall mother hath of her best beloved chyld, but 
much more greatter in respecte hmo she ya in bloude 
to her Majesty y albete one of the poor este as depend- 
ing wholly of her Majesty's Gracyom bountye and 
goodnes, and being now upon vij yeres and very 
apte to leame and able to conseve what shalbe 
taught her. The charge wyll so increase as I 
doubt not her Ma*^ wyll well conseve the nyne 
hondryth poundes yerely to be lettele jniough, 
which as your L. knoweth ys but as so much in 
mony, for that the landes be in lease, and no further 
commodetye to be looked for during thes few 
yeares of the ch3dde's mynoritye. All which I 
trust your L. wyll consider and say to her Ma*'' 
what you shall thinke therof ; and so most hartelye 
wyshe your good Lo. well to doe. Sheffeld thi§ 
viith of May. 

Your Lo. most assured loving frend, 

E. Shrousbury. 

" To, ^cr 



From another letter of the Countess of Shrews- 
bury's to Lord Burghley, dated Chatsworth, 
Jan. 7th. 1582, it does not appear that Queen 
Elizabeth thought herself obliged to grant a conti- 



206 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

nuance of the pension of the Countess of Lennox 
to her child ; 'and the two hundred a year originally 
allowed, was alone permitted. 

The child, when not altogether with her grand- 
mother, resided under the care of Gilbert Talbot 
and his wife, her aunt, who thus write to Lord 
Burghley, on taking their leave of him to go into 
the country : 

This letter is dated 1688. 

It is accompanied by a P.S. from the Lady 
Arabella, then, probably, about thirteen. 

" Right honorable and our espetiall good Lorde, 
on Thursday laste we attended reddy at your Lord- 
ship's house to have taken our leaves of your Lord- 
ship, but had answer by Mr. Cope that, at that 
tyme, your Lordship being somewhat touched with 
payne, we myghte not conveniently have accesse to 
you. Wherfore beyng now reddy agajmste Mun- 
day next to begyn our jomey into Nott. shyre, we 
now thynke good herby to present our humble 
dutyes to your Lordship, and if our attendance on 
your Lordship our selves yet before our goynge 
myght not be inconvenient or troblesom to your 
Lordship, we shalbe moste reddy and glad so to doe. 
Otherwyse we vrill by thes few lynes in humble 
manner take our leaves of yo"" Lordship, at whose 
commandment above any others we will ever 
remayne unfeynedly: and ever beseche the All- 



ARABELLA STUART. ^ 207 

myghty God to graunte unto your Lordship moste 
perfyte health, all honor and happynes. From our 
pore lodging in Collman Strete, this xiij*^ of July, 
1588. 

Your L. moste assuredly 

at your commandement, 
for ever, 
GiLB, Talbot. Mary Talbot. 

" *Je prierez Dieu Mons' vous donner en parfaicte 
et entiere sante, tout heureux, et bon succes, et 
serez preste a vous faire tout honneur et service. 

Arbella Stewart. 

" To the, ^cr 



There is something very aflTecting in the sim- 
plicity of this little postscript, written in French, 
doubtless, to show the education of the young 
correspondent, and with a view of its being men- 
tioned or shown to the Queen by the Lord Trea- 
surer, with whom the great object of the family 
seems to be to keep in favour. They appear to 
have succeeded, and to have created an interest in 
his mind for the orphan, left in such interesting 
circumstances ; for, immediately after this, he 
notices Arabella particularly, and forms plans for 
her estabUshment which, had thev been carried 
into eflfect, might have changed the current of her 
life, and placed her in a safe position. But the 



208 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

star of Stuart predominated, and its evil influence 
was cast upon her. 

Few young persons had so many matches pro- 
posed for them as Arabella ; in which particular she 
resembled Catherine, the sister of Henry the Fourth 
of France — ^always on the eve of marriage, and meet- 
ing with numerous disappointments. Catherine 
was separated from De Soissons, the object of her 
affection, and married at length to a man that was 
indifferent to her; it had been well for Arabella 
if her fate had been no worse. Little did her 
proud grandmother, when she heard of her suc- 
cesses at Court, imagine to what end they tended ; 
little did she contemplate that all the accom- 
plishments and grace which met with so much 
admiration, and of which she so delighted to read, 
were to be concealed for the greatest part of a life 
in prison ! , 

Arabella's portrait at this period represents her 
as a handsome and interesting girl, well-grown 
and intelligent looking. There is a very good 
picture of her at Bolsover Castle, of which a copy, 
almost effaced, is at Hardwick. She is dressed 
in white, with a little black edging to her robe, 
which has jewels down the fi'ont, and a pro- 
fusion of pearls round the neck, hanging to the 
waist; her auburn hair flows down her back and 
on her shoulders. Her eyes are rather large and 
clear, and her features good : a little dog is at her 
feet. 



ARABELLA STUART. 209 

The picture which exists of her, in good pre- 
servation, at Hardwick, is at the age of twenty-three 
months only : this has been abeady described.* 

It was probably at the promising age of thirteen 
that the following letter was written concerning her 
by Charles Cavendish, to whom she seems to have 
been confided on a visit to the Court. It is very 
curious ; he writes from London to the country : — 

TO THE COTJNTESS OF SHREWSBURY. 

[No date of the year.] 

JEwtrada from a Series of Letters in MS. at 

Hardwick Hall, 
" * * For our Court there is none in that height 
as my Lord of Essex, and surely he is raigUily 
grovM and can hardly he wanting half a day ; he 
t my Lord of Leicester marvellously. 

Sir Walter Rawley is in wonderful declination, 
yet labours to underprop himself by my Lord 
Treasurer and his friends. I see he is courteously 
used by my Lord and his friends, but I doubt the 
end, considering how he hath handled himself in 
his former pride, and surely now groweth so hum- 
ble towards every one, as considering his former 
insolency he committeth over great baseness, and 
is thought he will never rise again. ****** 

• The ornament worn by her in this picture is represented in 
the wood-cut at the beginning of her life, 
t The MS. is here defaced. 

VOL. I P 



210 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

My Lady Arbell hath been once to Court. Her 
Majesty spoke twice to her but not long, and exa- 
mined her nothing touching her book.^ She dined 
in the presence, but my Lord Treasurer had her to 
supper ; and at dinner, I dining with her and sit- 
ting over against him, he asked me whether I came 
with my niece. I said I came with her : then he 
spake openly, and directed his speech to Sir Walter 
Rawley, greatly in her commendation, as that she 
had the French, the Italian, played of instruments, 
dances, and writ very fair : wished she were fifteen 
years old ; and with that rounded Mr. JRawleg in 
the ear, who answered it would be a happy thing. 
At supper he made exceeding much of her ; so did 
he the afternoon in his great chamber publicly, and 
of Mall and Bess, George and f he hath 

asked when she shall come again to Court. * * * 

" My Lady Arbelle and the rest are very well, 
and it is wonderful how she profiteth in her book, 
and believe she will dance with exceeding good grace y 
and can behave herself vnth great proportion to 
every one in their degree. 

" But Alatheia is often wished with your Lady- 
ship ; she is so merry and talkative, and as pretty 
atired as any is. &c. &c. 

* The young dSbuiantes of that day, were, no doubt, in great 
fear of the female pedant, who, perhaps, to exhibit her own learn- 
ing, often put their timidity to the blush. How happily they 
must have considered a drawing-room ended without having been 
questioned on the subject of their studies ! 

t MS. defaced. 



ARABELLA STUART. 211 

" This messenger is in such haste as I have not 
time to read over my letter." 

The Catholic party, to whom, while Mary Stuart 
lived, she had been a guiding star, had formed a new 
plot against Queen Elizabeth, and imagined that, if 
they could get young Arabella into their hands, they 
might be able to induce her to change her religion 
and lend herself to their views. Ever active and 
ready to lay hold of any means, however unpro- 
mising, in which they could fancy a shadow of 
success, they were continually hovering about the 
residences of the countess where Arabella was to be 
foimd. 

It is not quite clear that the ambitious grand- 
mother exerted all her vigilance to prevent their 
purpose, although the chanced were but slight of 
raising her jewel to the throne while the Queen 
lived. Be this as it may, the Lord Chancellor 
seemed to have obtained accurate information as to 
some intention inimical to the interests of his 
mistress, and had written to the Lady of Hardwick, 
with the avowed object of putting her on her guard. 

The life of poor Arabella must have been one 
little better than that of Mary Stuart herself, for 
her steps seemed watched, and her slightest action 
directed. The Queen found it necessary, through- 
out her whole reign, to keep up the same active 
espiona^Cy lest the evil disposed should get the 
better; she herself can be looked upon as not 

p2 



212 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

possessing or enjoying much more liberty than 
those she suspected, for every hour was occupied 
in guarding against treason and betrayal, of one 
kind or another. 

The countess, alarmed at the Lord Treasurer's 
warning, writes to him as follows ; and gives him 
particulars, which, perhaps, would have been sup- 
pressed, but for his urgent recommendation to her 
to be careful of her charge : 

THE COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY TO LORD 
BURGHLEY.* 

" My honorable Good Lord, 

" I reseyved your Lordship's Lettre on Wed- 
ensday towards night, being the 20th of this 
Septr by a servant to M. John Talbotts of 
beland. My good lord, I was at the first much 
trobled to think that so wicked and mischievous 
practises shold be devysed to intrap my pore Arbell 
and me, but I put my trust in th' Almighty, and 
wyll use such dilaigent care as I dobt not but to 
prevent whatsoever shalbe attempted by any wycked 
persons ageinst the pore chyld. I am most bounde 
to hyr Majesty that yt pleased her to apoynt your 
Lordship to give me knowledge of this wycked 
practyse, and I humbly thanke y' L. for advertysing 
yt; yf any such lyke hereafter be discovered I besech 
your L^ I may be forewarned. I wyll not have 

* Lansdowne MS. 71, Art. Orig. 



ARABELLA STUART. 213. 

any unknowen or suspected person to come to my 
howse. Uppon the least suspicion that may happen 
here, any way, I shall give advertisement to your 
lord'P. I have little resort to me ; my house is fur- 
nished with sufficient company : Arbell walks not 
late; at such tyme as she shall take the ayre yt shallbe 
near the howse and well attended on : she goeth 
not to any body's howse at all ; I se hyr ahnost 
every howre in the day; she lyeth in my bed- 
chamber. If I can be more presise than I have 
been I wylbe. I am bound in nature to be careful 
for Arbell ; I find her loving and dutyfoll to me ; 
yet hyr owne good and safety is not dearer to me^ 
nor more by me regarded then to accomplish her 
M^' pleasure and that which I think may be for her 
service. I wold rayther wyshe many deaths than 
to se this or any such like wycked attempt to 
prevayle. 

" About a yere since there was on (one) Harrison, 
a seminary that lay at his brother's howse about a 
myle from Hardwycke whome I thought then to 
have caused to be apprehended and to have sent him 
up ; but found he had licence for a tyme. 

Notwithstanding, the seminary sone after went 
from his brother's, finding how much I was discon- 
tented with his Ijdnge so near me. Since my coming 
now into the country I had some intelligence that 
the same seminary was come again to his brother's 
house ; my sonn W" Cavendyshe went thither of a 
sudden to make search for him but cold not fynd 



214 EMII4ENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

him. I wryte. thus much to your Lord'*^ that if any 
such trayterous and noughty persons, (thorough her 
M'^* clemency) be suffered to go abroad that they 
may not harbor nere my howses, Wyngfeld, Hard- 
wik nor Chattesworthe in D^byshyre; they are 
the likest instruments to put a bad matter in 
execution. 

" On (one) Morley, who hath attended on Arbell, 
and red to her for the space of thre yere and a half, 
shoed to be much discontented since my retorne 
into the coimtry, in saying he had lived in hope to 
have some annuitie granted him by Arbell out of 
hyr land duryng his life or some lease of ground 
to the value of forty pounds a yere, alledging that 
he was so much damnified by leving the university, 
and now saw that if she were wylling, yet not of 
abihtie to make hym any such assurance. I under- 
standing by dyvers that Morley was so much discon- 
tented, and withall of late having some cause to be 
dobtfull of his forwardness in rehgion (though I 
cannot charge him with papistree), toke occasion to 
part with him. After he was gone from my howse 
and all hys stuff caried from hence, the next day he 
returned ageyn, very importunate to serve without 
standinge upon any recompence, which made me 
more suspicious, and the wyUinge to part with hym. 
I have an other in my howse who will supply 
Morley's place very well for the tyme. I wyll have 
those that shalbe sufficient in leminge, honest and 
well disposed, so nere as I can. 



ARABELLA STUART. 215 

"I am inforced to use the hand of my sone William 
Cavendysshe, not beinge able to wryte so much 
myself for feare of bringing greate payne to my hed. 
He only is pryvy to your L^^ letter, and neyther 
Arbell nor any other lyvinge, nor shallbe. 

" I besech y' L. I may be directed from you as 
occasion shall fall out. To the uttermost of my 
understanding I have and wylbe carefull. I besech 
th' Almighty to send y' L. a longe and happy lyfe, 
and so I will committ y' L. to his protection. From 
myhowse at Hardwyck the 21st Sep, 1592. 

Y' L. as I am bound, 

E. Shrouesbury. 

" To the Bf, Hon, my very good Lord the 
L. Burghley, Z" Tresorer of Enf, " 



It is singular, how, with the facts before them, 
historians fall into error respecting the persons whose 
Uves they are recording. Lodge, following others, 
mentions that the first years of Arabella's life were 
passed under the superintendence of the Dowager 
Countess of Lennox, her father's mother. This 
lady, as has been already related, died when Ara- 
bella was about a year old ; the grandmother, who 
should have been named, is, as has been seen, 
Elizabeth of Shrewsbury. Nor was the young 



216 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

orphan brought up in London, as Lodge asserts ; 
she evidently passed her time principally in Derby- 
shu-e, at the diflPerent residences of her grandmother; 
and, it appears, was very frequently at Hardwick, 
as the preceding letter of the countess proves. 

She is sometimes in the keeping of Earl Gilbert 
and his lady, and sometimes with the Cavendishes ; 
but the great object of Lady Shrewsbuiy seems 
to be to induce the Queen to adopt her alto- 
gether, doubtless with the view of her eventually 
declaring her her heir. It would have been infi- 
nitely more natural, and more agreeable to the 
country, if the Queen had done so ; but her pride 
and vanity interfered with her policy to the very 
last moment of her life, and prevented her doing 
that to which, perhaps, she had an inclination. 

She must, necessarily, have had little regard for 
James, the son of a woman she hated and put to 
death; an alien, unknown to the EngUsh, with habits, 
manners, and a character Uttle likely to please 
either her or her subjects. If she had had the good 
sense and feeling to adopt Arabella, and bring her 
up in the eyes of the people of England, who are 
prone to like those with whom they are acquainted, 
it is probable that all parties would have been ready, 
at her death, to acknowledge her as their sovereign. 
As it was by no means justice or patriotism which 
guided Ehzabeth, this would have been a natural 
course ; and, although some would have blamed 



ARABELLA STUART. 217 

her for excluding the stranger, James, it would have 
redeemed her character from unfeminine harshness, 
if she had declared herself towards an orphan of her 
own sex, a Protestant, and a child of the country. 
Instead of which she made use of Arabella, as she 
did of all others, rendering her a tool for her own 
purposes ; holding her up in terrorem against the 
friends of James, when it suited her, and not only 
not ejffectually upholding her claims, or placing her 
in a position to assert them herself after her death; 
but, dying without a word which should indicate 
her own wish, as to who should be her successor : 
thus leaving the unfortunate Arabella to be a mark 
for aU the hatred and suspicion of the mean-spirited 
and vindictive James. 

No doubt she fed the old countess with promises 
and professions, in order to bind her to her party; 
while, in secret, she resolved to allow things to take 
their course ; the interests of the country and her 
own being the same in her eyes, and, when she 
ceased to exist, what was the rest to her? Let 
chance dispose of all. 

When one reflects on the manifold injustice and 
cruelties of Queen EKzabeth, during her long reign 
of struggling tyranny and suspicion, one cannot be 
surprised at the perturbation of her mind as the 
close drew on. Camden, who labours to prove that 
she was highly religious — a supposition in which 
he is nowhere borne out — as an evidence of that 
important fact thus remarks : — 



218 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" The truth is, that she was overtaken and pos- 
sessed, for some time before her death, with a very 
deep melancholy; insomuch, qa she would some- 
times sit, sometimes stand, for divers hours together, 
in profound silence. What her thoibghts were who 
can jvdge? Rather it may be judged that her 
meditations were fixed on God, and her thoughts 
lifted up to Heaven, the joys whereof she was then 
shortly to possess ; and to this purpose she let fall 
some words to an honourable lady of her bed- 
chamber, (the Lady Newton), who, taking her op- 
portunity to say to her, ' Madam, I trust your 
Majesty, in all this long silence, doth think on 
God \ she answered, * I warrant you, madam, 
I think on nothing else : ' and this, there are 
those yet living that can justify." 

Whether the testy and sharp answer of the Queen 
be really a sufficient proof of the nature of her 
reflections, it is difficult to say. Solemn and fearful 
must have been these long silences of the absolute 
Queen. Standing for hours, in moody abstraction, 
perhaps all the past events of her stormy life passing 
in review before her mind — ^her persecuted youth, 
her mortified womanhood, her success and triumph 
in middle life, the joys of her flattered vanity, her 
surfeited pride, her grandeur, the terrors of her 
name, the glories of her reign, the adulation of her 
courtiers, the admiration of her people, the ven- 
geance of her jealousy, the fury of her hate, the 



ARABELLA STUART. 219 

desertion of her friends, the falsehood of her 
favourite, the cold void in her heart, and the con- 
sciousness that she had lived too long — all might 
crowd together in her mind, and, as she had no 
friend in whom to confide her secret musings, she 
was forced to bear their weight in silence and alone. 
Yet, with all this torture, could not her proud spirit 
resolve to subdue the fearful pride which had sup- 
ported her in all her trials ; and, to the last, she 
endeavoured to persuade herself that she was in- 
deed the Phoenix, which her flatterers had called 
her in her palmy days. 

She has left a name which startles those who 
hear it; and, though her great policy has gained 
her many supporters and admirers, no soUtary 
act of virtue ever secured her a friend in life 
or after death. 

It seems that Arabella's appearance, manners, 
accomplishments and character, while they excited 
general esteem and admiration wherever she 
appeared, began 'to create in the bosom of the 
jealous Queen uneasy sensations, and the restless 
plotting of adverse parties made her regard, with 
some anxiety, a young and interesting person, who 
was exactly fitted to be made an object round 
which the disaffected might rally, arf in the case 
with the equally innocent victim Jane Grey. 

It was in 1594 that a great sensation was caused 
by the sudden appearance of Father Parsons' 
pamphlet, in which that fanatical and ill-judging 



220 EMINENT ElNGLISHWOMEN. 

partisan, out of hatred to Queen Elizabeth, 
collected together and brought forward all the 
arguments in favour of the succession of Arabella, 
which had been adduced by those who were 
inimical to the Queen. Parsons dedicated his 
work to the Earl of Essex, and printed it under 
the assimaed name of Richard Dolman. 

He did not venture in this to assert Arabella's 
right to the Crown, during the lifetime of the reign- 
ing sovereign, but showed her claim, and rendered 
her conspicuous, by so doing, in every Court of 
Europe, where the merits of the case were freely 
discussed. The innocent subject of all this con- 
versation, although known to be ignorant of every 
particular, was yet, in consequence, looked upon 
with an evil eye at home ; and some circumstances 
at the time rendered her still more distasteful to 
the sensitive Queen. 

James of Scotland, who appeared desirous of 
making Arabella a plaything, as well as the Queen 
of England, had, at one time, a project of uniting 
her to his favourite, Esme Stuart, whom he had 
created Duke of Lennox, and who, before the birth 
of his own children, he had considered as his heir. 
This match, Elizabeth would by no means agree to ; 
objecting that Esme was a Papist — which was an 
argument without foundation. She, probably, with 
her usual envy, disliked the idea of her young kins- 
woman marrying at all ; and when a proposal 
made by a son of the Earl of Northumberland for 



ARABELLA STUART. 221 

Arabella's hand, was favourably received by her 
friends, her anger broke forth in violence, and one of 
her latest acts was the confinement of the unfortu- 
nate young girl ; the project being, however, aban- 
doned, she contented herself without punishing her 
further. 

Alternately severe and gracious, Elizabeth con- 
trived to excite and destroy hopes, so as to keep 
the old Countess of Shrewsbury her friend, by 
appearing to be espousing the cause and welfare 
of her grand-daughter, for whom, with increasing 
years, she must have felt extreme anxiety. 

Lady Dorothy StaflFord writes by her desire, to 
the countess, in the follovring strain of confidence : 

LADY DOROTHY STAFFORD TO THE COUNTESS OF 
SHREWSBURY.* 

" Righte honorable and my verie Good Ladie. I 
have, according to the purporte of your hon^^"" 
Letters, presented your La^* New-Yeres gifte, 
togeather w*^ my Ladie Arbella's, to the Queene's 
Ma**", whoe hath verie graciously accepted thereof, 
and taken an especiall liking to that of my La. 
Arbella's. It pleased her Ma*^" to tell mee, that 
whereas in certaine former letters of your La^", 
your desire was that her Ma*^** would have that 
respecte of my La. Arbella that she mighte be 

• From Nichols's Progresses ^of Queen Elizabeth, Vol. XI. 
p. 543. 



222 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

carefullie bestowed to her Ma**"^ good liking, that, 
according to the contents of those letters, her Ma*^® 
tould mee that shee would be careftdl of her, and 
w^all hathe retomed a token to my La. Arbella, 
w** is not so good as I could wish it, nor so good 
as her La** deserveth, in respect of the rareness of 
that w°^® she sente unto her Ma***. But I beseeche 
you, good Maddam, seeing it pleased her Ma*'® to 
saie so muche unto mee touching her care of my 
La. Arbella, that your La^ will vouchesafe mee so 
muche favor as to keepe it to yourselfe, not make- 
ing anie other acquainted w*^ it, but rather repose 
the truste in mee for to take my opportunitie for 
the putting her Ma**® in mynde thereof, w®^ I will 
doe as carefullie as I can. And thus being alwaies 
bownd to your La^ for your hon^^® kindnesses 
toward mee, I humbly comett your La^ to the safe 
protection of Almightie God. 

Prom Westminster this xiii'*" of Januarie, 1600-1. 
DoROTHiE Stafford.* 

" To the right honorable and my verie Ggod Ladie 
the Countesse of Shrewsburie^ Dowager. 



* There is a good account of this lady on her monument in 
St. Margaret's Church, Westminster. 

« Here lyeth the Lady Dorothy Stafford, mife and mdow of 
Sir Wm. Stafford, Knight, d'. to Henry Lord Stafford, the only 
son of Edwd. the last D. of Buckingh™. Her mother was Ursula, 
d. to the Ct»«. of Salisbury, the only d. to George D. of Clarence, 
brother to K. Edw<^. 4. She continued a true widow from the age 
of 27 to her death. She served Q. Eliz. 40 years, lying in her 
bedchamber ; esteemed of her, loved of all, doing good all she 



ARABELLA STUAET. 223 

Whatever might have been Queen Elizabeth's 
meaning in professing her intention to ''be careful 
of her,'' it did not become manifest. She avoided 
so carefully answering, even to her ow^n mind, the 
disagreeable question of succession, that she could 
hardly permit herself to dwell on the possibility 
of Arabella being the favoured heir ; yet such, of 
course, was imderstood by the anxious relatives, 
who looked to her aggrandisement for their own. 

It may reasonably be imagined that Ehzabeth, 
when it came to the last, would have roused her 
spirit with the necessity of the moment, and pro- 
claimed her wishes — ^which never could have been 
in favour of James, whom she had always treated 
wdth contempt, and whose name must have been a 
knell to her ears, recalling events she would fain 
have forgotten ; but the fatal catastrophe of Essex 
entirely banished from her thoughts all but her 
desolating grief, caused by mortification, insulted 
pride, and the loss of one dear to her beyond all 
beside, who had repaid her weak indulgence by 
rebellion and ingratitude of the deepest die. 

To ^' sit in the dark, and bewail'' the untimely 

could to everybody, never hurled any, a continual remembrancer 
of the suits of the poor. As she lived a religious life in great 
reputation of honor and virtue in the W4»rld, so she ended in con- 
tinual fervent meditations and hearty prayer to God : at which 
instant (as aU her life, so after her death), she gave liberally to 
the poor, and died, aged 78, Sept. 22, 1604. In whose memory 
Sir Ed. Stafford, her son, hath caused this memorial of her to be 
in the same form and place as she herself long since required 
him."— ZTttn/er'^ HaUamzUre^ p. 92. 



224 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

fate of her favourite, \ras now the occupation of the 
greatest sovereign of Europe, as the French ambas- 
sador, De Beaumont, recounts to his correspondent 
De Villeroy. In the same letters he mentions a 
rumour, which is passed over by most historians, 
but which Birch, in his memoirs, records : this was, 
that part of the Queen's uneasiness of mind arose 
from her reflections respecting the Lady Arabella 
Stuart, who she was said to have discovered had 
written a letter to the Earl of Hertford, making 
a proposition of alljring herself with his grandson, 
William Seymour; who, in effect, became her 
husband subsequently. 

Birch adds a curious note on this subject, which 
is as follows : — 

" Besides which, the death of her chaplain and 
preceptor, who hanged himself, and a paper which 
he left behind him, full of her praises, increased the 
suspicion which had been, for a long time, enter- 
tained of them." 

Perhaps the imprisonment of Arabella was but 
postponed by the death of the Queen; for, had 
she recovered, as she evidently expected herself, 
there is httle doubt but that she would have ex- 
amined severely into the proceedings attributed to 
the Lady Arabella. It was left, however, to James 
to find out, or imagine, the treason against his 
sacred privilege, and to punish as severely as his 
jealous predecessor could have done. 



ARABELLA STUART. 225 

Be this as it may ; whoever the Queen intended 
by vowing that her kingdom " should not fall into 
the hands of raacaW — she died, and Arabella was 
not named. Her ministers had resolved for her ; 
and the very term she used, which might be inter- 
preted to mean James of Scotland and his race, 
for whom she had always shown aversion, was 
forced into a signification in his favour. No time 
was lost by his friends to secure the inheritance for 
him ; and the old Countess of Shrewsbury saw the 
regal circlet, with which, in imagination, she decked 
the brow of Arabella, snatched from her grasp, and 
given to another. 

Notwithstanding this great blow to the ambi- 
tious views of EUzabeth of Hardwick, she saw hope 
still in the future. James's manners and habits 
were so unpopular ; the minds of the people were 
scarcely prepared for so sudden a change as his 
arrival would create ; all connected with him were 
looked upon as strangers and aliens ; while Arabella 
was bom amongst them, and of an age to govern, 
as their Queen had been, at her accession, in 
troublous times ; the future might yet serve them, 
and, for the present, there was nothing to fear. 

If it was true that Arabella did really write the 
letter to Lord Hertford imputed to her, she can 
scarcely be supposed ignorant of the designs in 
her favour entertained by the party who opposed 
James. The latter had been carefully pointed out 
to the new sovereign, by his agents in England, 

VOL. T. Q 



226 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

during Elizabeth's last illness, as the Earl of 
Northumberland, Lord Cobham, and Sir Walter 
Raleigh — ^whom Lord Henry Howard, the informer 
on the occasion, calls "People without either 
morals or religion, a triplidty that deny the 
Trinity, " In one letter, Howard mentions a 
curious dialogue between the Earl of Northumber- 
land and his lady, the sister of Essex. The Earl 
exclaimed, "that he would rather the King of 
Scots were buried than crowned, and that he and 
his friends would end their hves before her brother's 
Great god should reign in this element." 

The countess's answer was suitable to her violent 
character, and her passionate attachment to the 
brother she had so recently lost, and is one of many 
instances to show how vehement was the lan- 
guage used by the ladies of the Queen's Court — 
of which, that of Beatrice was a type — 

" I w* eat his heart in the market-place !" 

She cried out that, " rather than any other than 
that King should ever reign in England, she 
would eat their hearts in salt, though she were 
brought to the gallows immediately." The earl 
replied, "that the secretary, Cecil, had too much 
wit ever to live under a man who had a foreign 
stroke, having been so fortunate under a woman 
who was tractahley and to be counselled^ This is 
the first time the Queen was ever suspected of 
gentleness ! The countess then told him that he 



ARABELLA STUART. 227 

need not long triumph upon her poor brother's 
mishap, for if he kept in this mind she could expect 
no better end of him than the same, or a worse 
destiny.* 

James treasured in his memory those passagesy to 
be revenged when occasion served. Although there 
was nothing to criminate Arabella, she was, evi- 
dently, always considered by him with uneasiness ; 
as Elizabeth desired she should be, in order to 
keep him in subjection. 

Arabella did not seem at first to have reason 
to complain of her treatment from the new Court. 
She was considered as one of the family, enter- 
tained at Woodstock, and Anne of Denmark 
appears to have been kind towards her. She 
thus writes to her uncle, in a strain of gaiety 
which seemed natural to her, and which makes 
her subsequent fate the more distressing. 

This letter is dated 1603, and shows her ready 
observation, sarcastic wit, and cheerfulness : 

ARABELLA STUART TO THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY. 

" At my return from Oxford, where I have spent 
this day whilst my Lord Cecill, amongst many 
more weighty affairs, was dispatching some of mine, 
I found my cousin Lacy had disburthened himself 
at my chamber of the charge he had from you, and 

* Birch's Memoirs. 
Q 2 



228 EMIJJENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

I straight fell to prepare his freight baek, in order 
not to hinder his return to-morrow morning as he 
intendeth. 

" I wrote you the reason of the delay of Taxis'* 
of the audience ; it remains to tell how jovially he 
behaved himself in the interim. He has brought 
great store of Spanish gloves, hawks' hoods, leather 
for jerkins, and, moreover, a perfumer : these deli- 
cacies he bestows amongst our ladies and lords, I 
will not say with a hope to effeminate the one sex, 
but certainly with a hope to grow gracious with the 
other, as he already is. 

" The curiosity of our sex drew many ladies and 
gentlemen to gaze at him betwixt his landing-place 
and Oxford, his abiding place ; which he, desirous 
to satisfy — ^I will not say nourish that vice — ^made 
his coach stay, and took occasion, with petty gifts 
and courtesies to win soon-won affections, who, com- 
paring his manner with M. de Rosny's, hold him 
their far welcomer guest. At Oxford he took some 
distaste about his lodging, and would needs lodge 
at an inn, because he had not all Christ's College 
to himself, and was not received into the town by the 
vice-chancellor in jpontificalibtis, which they never 
use to do but to the King or Queen, or Chancellor 
of the University, as they say ; but these scruples 
were soon digested, and he vouchsafed to lodge in 

* Don Juan de Taxis, the Spanish Ambassador. 



ARABELLA STUART. 229 

a part of the college till his repair to the King at 
Winchester. 

" Count Aremberg was here within a few days, 
and presented to the Queen the Archduke and 
the Infanta's pictures most excellently drawn.* 
Yesterday the King and Queen dined at a lodge of 
Sir Henry Lee's, three miles hence, and were accom- 
panied by the French ambassador and a Dutch 
duke. 

" I will not say we were merry at the Dutchkin, 
lest you complain of me for telling tales out of the 
Queen's coach: but I could find in my heart to 
write unto you some of our yesterday's adventures, 
but that it grows late, and by the shortness of your 
letter, I conjecture you would not have this honest 
gentleman overladen with such superfluous rela- 
tions. 

" My Lord Admiral is returned from the Prince 
and Princess, and either is or will be my cousin, 

* Count Aremberg (Jean de Ligne, Prince of Braban^on) was 
ambassador from the Archduke of Austria. The most imfavour- 
able opinions were formed of his abilities on his first arrival in 
England. He was very gouty, and a bad speaker. James 
remarked to Sully, then ambassador from France, that the Arch- 
duke had sent an ambassador who could neither walk nor talk ; 
and who had demanded an audience in a garden because he 
could not come up stairs into a room. His audience was from 
time to time delayed at his own request ; at length Cecil waited 
on him in order to confer ; and, after having received his 
compliment on the King's accession, endeavoured to bring him to 
some conversation on matters of state ; but he answered that he 
was a soldier, and had no skill in negotiation : that he only came 
to hear what the King of England had to say to him, and that 
after him his master would send a man of business. 



230 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

in spite of the incredulous. You will believe such 
incongruities in a councellor, as love maketh no 
miracles in his subjects, of what degree or age 
soever.* 

" His daughter of Kildare is discharged of her 
office, and as near a free woman as may be and 
have a bad husband, f 

" The Dutch 4ady, my Lord Wotton spoke of at 
Basing, proved a lady sent by the Duchess of Hol- 
stein to learn the English fashions : she lodges at 
Oxford, and has been here twice, and thinks every 
day long till she be at home, so well she likes her 
entertainment or loves her own country. 

" In truth she is civil, and therefore cannot but 
look for the like which she brings out of a ruder 
country. But if ever there were such a virtue at 
Court I marvel what is become of it, for I protest I 
see Uttle or none of it but in the Queen, who, ever 

* The Admiral married in his sixty-eighth year, and had two 
sons, the younger of whom, Charles, succeeded his half-brother in 
the earldom of Nottingham many years afterwards. The mar- 
riage seems to have caused much mirth at the time. Sir Thomas 
Edmonds, in a letter to the Earl of Shrewsbury, thus observes : — 

** I suppose your lordship is no less entertained with the plea- 
sure of your hunting than we are here, so as you do not care nor 
expect to hear any novelties from us during this time. Since the 
time that your Lordship left us we have wholly spent our time in 
that exercise ; but the Queen remained at Basing till the Ring's 
coming hither, and she hath as well entertained herself with good 
dancing, which hath brought forth the efiects of a marriage 
between my lord Admiral and the Lady Margaret Stuart." 

t Frances Howard, second daughter to the Lord Admiral, 
widow of Henry Fitzgerald, twelfth Earl of Kildare, and lately 
marned to the wretched Henry Brook, Lord Cobham. 



ARABELLA STUART. 231 

since her coining to Newbury, hath spoken to the 
people as she passes, and received their prayers with 
thanks and thankful countenance, barefaced, to the 
great contentment of native and foreign people : for 
I would not let you think the French ambassador 
would leave that attractive virtue of our late Queen 
EUzabeth unremembered or imcommended, when 
he saw it imitated by our most gracious Queen, 
lest you should think we infect even our neighbours 
with incivility. 

" But what a theme have I gotten unawares ! 
It is your own virtue I commend by the foil of the 
contrary vice, and so, thinking on you, my pen 
accused myself before I was aware. Therefore, I 
will put it to silence for this time, only adding a 
short but most hearty prayer for your prosperity 
in all kinds, and so humbly take my leave. 

" From Woodstock, 16th Sept'. 1603. 

Your Lordship's niece, 

Arabella Stuart." 



Scarcely was James seated on the throne, than 
danger to Arabella appeared in the unfortunate 
conspiracy into which Raleigh was accused of 
having entered with the Brooks ; of which, as Lodge 
remarks — 

"Little is known but that the main object was 
to place her on a throne, to which she had neither 



282 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

inclination nor pretentions, and by a means 
unknown to herself. During his trial, at which she 
was present, on the first mention of her name in 
evidence, Cecil rose and said, ' Here hath been a 
touch of the Lady Arabella Stuart, a near kins- 
woman of the King's. Let us not scandal the 
innocent by confusion of speech. She is as iftno- 
cent of all these things as I, or any man here, only 
she received a letter from my Lord Cobham to 
prepare her, which she laughed at, and immediately 
sent it to the King.' The old Earl of Nottingham, 
who stood by her, added, ' The lady her6 doth 
protest upon her salvation that she never dealt in 
any of those things, and so she wiUs me to tell the 
Court ;' and Cecil proceeded — ' The Lord Cobham 
wrote to my Lady Arabella, to know if he might 
come and speak with her, and gave her to under- 
stand that there were some about the King that 
laboured to disgrace her : she doubted it was but a 
trick; but Brook, Lord Cobham's brother, saith 
that my Lord moved him to procure the Lady 
Arabella to write to the King of Spain; but he 
affirms, he never did move her as his brother 
devised.' Whether these noblemen seriously meant 
to exculpate her, may, perhaps, be doubtful; but 
we have abundant reason to know that they spoke 
the truth, since no trace of historical intelligence is 
to be found that tends to impUcate her as an active 
party in this most obscure and even ridiculous 
design." 



ARABELLA STUART. 283 

Some reflections, however, had been cast on her 
by one of the witnesses, for Michael Hickes, re- 
citing some particulars of Raleigh's trial, in a letter 
to her micle, Gilbert Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, of 
6th December, 1603, writes: — ' They say the La. 
Arabella's name came to be mentioned in the evi- 
dence against him; but she was cleared in the 
opinion of all ; and, as I hard, my L'^ C. spake very 
honourably in her behalf; but one that gave in evy- 
dence, as it is said, spake very grossly and rudely 
conceminge her La. as I think y' Lp. hath hard, or 
shall heare." 

It is worthy of remark, that the passages alluded 
to by Mr. Hickes, do not appear in the printed 
accounts of Raleigh's trial, in which her name is 
mentioned only in the indictment; and it should 
seem that the notes of those parts of the evidence 
had been suppressed, while the apologetic addresses 
of the two lords, to which they had given occa- 
sion, were inadvertently suffered to be published. 
It must be inferred, then, that James and his 
government, not only beUeved her to be innocent, 
but were incUned even to fp-vour her, for the trial 
could not have been published but with sanction. 

That Arabella had not fallen under the suspicion 
of the king, or been an object of his anger, would 
appear by the grant, just at this time made to her 
by him, of eight himdred pounds yearly, and two 
hundred in advance, to pay some of her debts ; 



234 EMINEI^ ENGLISHWOMEN. 

besides this, certain allowances of " dishes of meat " 
are mentioned by Lord Cecil (afterwards Earl of 
Salisbmy), for her people ; and she seems to be 
gay, happy, and admired, and to indulge her lively 
himiom' in playful remarks about the strangers at 
Court. Amongst them there was a fantastic knight, 
— another MalvoUo, — whose pedantic and formal 
letters describe him sufficiently. What reason Lodge 
had to imagine that Arabella encouraged him as a 
suitor, it is difficult to say ; that he admired her, 
and was probably flattered at her condescending to 
notice him, there can be no doubt ; and it is even 
extremely probable that she enjoyed the amusement 
of observing his afiectation and Euphuistic devo- 
tion. 

It is very unUkely that such a mind as hers 
evidently was should have, for a moment, stooped 
to anything more than mere pleasantry with so 
silly a personage, who held the office of Secretary 
and Master of the Requests to Anne of Denmark. 

A few of his letters, and a specimen of his poetry, 
of which he seems very proud, will show what 
manner of man this supposed lover was ; he might 
have gone cross-gartered, or have committed some 
such absurdity, to gain the attention of the lady 
of his love ; but that she knew more of it than 
Olivia of her steward's preposterous attachment, is 
surely quite out of the question. His style is by 
no means unlike that of Polonius. 



ARABELLA STUART. 235 

WILLIAM FOWLER TO THE EARL AND COUNTESS 
OF SHREWSBURY. 

" May it please your honours to pardon the delay 
I have used in deferring to answer your L.' most 
courteous letters, which, growing from no other 
occasion but from great desire to give your honours 
complete contentment and satisfaction, I trust you 
will afford me a gracious and courteous remission. 

" True it is that I did, with all respect, present 
your honours' humble duties accompanied with 
your fervent prayers for and to her majesty, who 
not only lovingly accepted of the same, but did 
demand me if I had not letters from your honours ; 
which being excused by me, through your reverend 
regard towards her, avoiding alwaya presumption 
and importunity y answered, that in the case your 
honours had written to her she should have re- 
turned you answer in the same manner : and with 
these I had commission to assure both your honours 
of her constant affection towards you both now 
in absence, as also in time coming ; so that your 
lordship shall do well to continue her purchased 
affection by such officious insinuations, which will 
be thankfully embraced: to the which, if I may 
give or bring any increase, I shall think me happy 
in such occasion or occurrences to serve and honour 
you. 

"But I fear I am too saucy and overbold to 
trouble your honours; yet I cannot forbear from 



236 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

giving you advertisement of my great and good 
fortune in obtaining the acquaintance of my Lady 
Arhellay who may he to the first seven justly the 
eighth wonder of the world. 

" If I dm^t I would write more plainly my 
opinion of things that fall out here amongst us, 
but I dare not, without your Lordship's warrant, 
deal so. 

" I send two sonnets unto my most virtuous 
and honourable lady — ^the expressers of my humour^ 
and the honour of her whose sufficiency and per- 
fections merit more regard than this ungrateful 
and depressing age will afford or suffer. 
' " The one is a conceit of mine, drawn from a 
horologe, the other is of that most worthy and 
most virtuous lady, your niece. I trust they shall 
find favour in your sight ; and in this hope, humbly 
taking my leave of both your honours, I commit 
your lordship to the protection of God. 

" From Woodstock, 11*^ Sep'. 1603. 

" Your Honours' most willing to do you service, 

" Fowler." 



Can one not imagine in this gentleman the very 
original of Master Holofemes' " Fantastical Phan- 
tasm" ? 

"His humour lofty, his discourse peremptory, 
his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majes- 



ARABELLA STUART. 237 

tical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, 
and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too 
affected, too odd, as it were too peregrinate, as I 
may call it." 

But let -US hear the verses of the man thought 
worthy by an historian to be the lover of a 
Rosalind. 

" uppon a horologe op the clock at sir george 
moore's at his place of loseley, 1603.* 

" Court hath me now transformed into a clock, 

And in my braynes her restles wheeles doth place, 
Which makes my thoughts the tack ther to knock, 

And by ay-turning courses them to chase : 
** Yea, in the circuite of that restles space 

Tyme takes the stage to see them turne alwaies, 
Whilest careles fates doth just desires disgrace, 

And brings me shades of nights for shines of dayes. 
My hart her bell, on which disdaine assaies 

IngrateMly to hamber on the same. 
And, beating on the edge of truth, bewraies 

Distempered happe to be her proper name. 
But here I stay — I fear supernall powers, 
Unpois'd hambers strikes untymeUe howers." 

This miserable no-meaning nonsense, not unlike 
much of the poetry inflicted on the world at the 
present day, is followed by the sonnet, which was 
expected, no doubt, by the author, to do great 
execution on Arabella's heart. 

• It would be unjust to the Poet not to allow him the benefit of 
his own orthography. 



238 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" TO THE MOST VERTEOUS AND TREWLYE HONORABLE 
LAD YE LAD YE ARBELLA . STEWART. 

" Whilest organs of vaine sence transportes the minde, 

Embracing objectes both of sight and eare, 
Toutch, smell, and tast, to which frail flesh inclinde 

Freferrs such trash to thinges which are more deare* 
Thou, godlie nymphe, possest with heavenlie feare, 

Divine in soule, devote in life, and grave, 
Rapt from thy sence and sex, thy spirits doth steire 

Tries to avoyd which reason doth bereave. 
O graces rare ! which time from shame shall save, 

Wherein thou breath 'st (as in the seas doth fish 
In salt not saltish*) exempt from the grave 

Of sad remorse, the lott of worldlinge's wish . 
O ornament both of thyself, and sex ! 
And mirrour bright, wher virtues doth reflex." 

Alas! poor Arabella " sprighted with a fool/' 
— ^it was hard on her that she should be reproached 
with having smiled on such a lover. Although 
she could not but laugh at him, his devotion, when 
she had so few friends, naturally excited some 
gratitude in her mind ; for he seems never weary 
of sounding her praises, when expressing his 
"conding thanks" to Lord Shrewsbury, her uncle, 
for some real or imagined favours, and takes 
occasion always to bring in the name of his " most 
gracious and virtuous niece, the Lady Arbelle/* 

Although the conspiracy in which Raleigh was 
involved was still a majtter of conversation, and the 
trials of those suspected were going on, the Lady 

* In salo sine sale. 



ARABELLA STUART. 239 

Arabella was not affected by it ; but continued at 
Court, in close attendance on the Queen, whose 
gentle manners and kind disposition seemed to 
conciliate those around her. The plague at this 
time was making fearful ravages; so that the 
Court was continually moving from one place to 
another. In different letters, from coin-tiers long 
accustomed to the elegancies of a female reign, 
particulars sufficiently amusing, in spite of the 
subject, occur, of the shifts they were obhged to 
make to escape contagion. Lord Cecil talks of 
the " camp volant, which every week dislodgeth;" 
— ^they were, in fact, obliged to lodge their atten- 
dants in tents pitched in the neighbourhood of 
the houses chosen for the temporary residence of 
royalty. Wilton, Woodstock, Basing, Winchester, 
Hampton Court, Richmond, — all were tried ; but, 
as the plague pursued, the Court continued fugitive, 
or, as Lord Cecil observes, " drove them up and 
down so round as I think we shall come to York. 
God bless the King, for once a week one or other 
dies in our tents." 

Of the ancient palace of Woodstock, where King 
James took refuge, he complains sadly : — 

" This place is unwholesome ; all the house stand- 
ing upon springs. It is unsavoury ; for there is no 
savour but of cows and pigs. It is uneasful ; for only 
the King and Queen, with the privy chamber ladies, 
and some three or four of the Scottish counsel, are 



240 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

lodged in the house ; and neither Chamberlain nor 
one EngUsh councellor have a room, which will be 
a sour sauce to some of your old friends that 
have been merry with you in a vdnter's night, 
from whence they have not removed to their bed 
in a snowy storm." 

Independently of the necessity of moving, to 
escape the plague, King James seemed naturally 
restless, though he disliked Lord Cranbourn's 
allusion to his ambulatory proceedings under his 
new dignities and unwonted wealth; which he 
squandered in the most silly, childish, and thought- 
less manner, on his needy Scotch favourites, until 
it became necessary that a violent stop should be 
put to his proceedings. 

Entertainments of great cost and splendour 
were carried on in the midst of the raging sickness, 
and the new sovereign's expenses were exactly 
double those of his predecessor, Elizabeth. 

In a letter from the Earl of Worcester to Lord 
Shrewsbury, he describes the gaieties going on. 

" It is," says the gossiping correspondent of 
Arabella's uncle, " likewise resolved that every 
man shall wear what apparel himself Usteth, and 
we here resolve to ride upon footcloths, some 
of one colour some of another, as they like ; but 
the most that I hear are of purple velvet embroi- 
dered, as fair as their purse will afford means. 
The great ladies are appointed to ride in chariots, 



ARABELLA STUART. 241 

the baronesses on horseback, and they that have no 
saddles from the King must provide their own; 
the number provided are twenty, which were pro- 
vided against the coronation, of crimson velvet ; 
and this is all I can advertise you for that matter. 

" As you say you were never particularly adver- 
tised of the mask (given by the Queen to the 
Prince) I have been at sixpence charge to send you 
the hook, which will inform you better than I can, 
having noted the names of the ladies applied to 
each goddess ; and for the other I would have 
likewise sent you the ballet if I could have got it 
for money ; but these books, as I hear, are all called 
in, and, in truth, I will not take upon myself to 
set that down which wiser men than myself do not 
understand. This day the King dined abroad with 
the Florentine ambassador, who taketh now his 
leave very shortly. He was with the King at the 
play at night, and supped with my lady Rich in 
her chamber. 

" The French Queen, as it is reported, has 
sent to our Queen a very fine present, but not 
yet deUvered, in regard she was not well these 
two days, and came not abroad, therefore I 
cannot advertise the particulars ; but, as I hear, 
one part is a cabinet, very cunningly wrought, and 
inlayed aU over with musk and amber grease, which 
makes a sweet savor; and in every box a several 
present of flowers, for head tyring, and jewels. She 
hath likewise sent to divers councellors fair presents 

VOL. 1. R 



242 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

of jewels, and to many ladies, some to those about 
the King, &c. &c. What the meaning is I cannot 
conceive as yet ; but time will discover that which 
rareness maketh a wonder. 

" Now, having done with matters of state, I must 
a little touch the feminine commonwealth, that 
against your coming you be not altogether Kke an 
ignorant country fellow. First, you must know we 
have ladies of divers degrees of favour ; some for 
the private chamber, some for the drawing cham- 
ber, some for bed chamber, and some for neither 
certain; and of this number is only my Lady 
Arbella and my wife. 

" My lady of Bedford holdeth fast to the bed 
chamber ; my lady of Hertford would fain, but her 
hualand hath called her hmtie. My Lady of Derby, 
the younger, the Lady Suffolk, Rich, Nottingham, 
Susan Walsingham, and of late the lady Sothwell, 
for the drawing chamber ; all the rest for the private 
chamber, when they are not shut out, for many 
times the doors are locked : but the plottiny and 
malice amongst them is such that I think that envy 
hath tied an invisible snake about most of their 
necksy to sting one another to death. For the 
present there are now five maids : Gary, Middle- 
more, Woodhouse, Gargrave, Roper; the sixth is 
determined, but not come : God send them good 
fortune, for as yet they have no mother.*' 

A grand masque at Christmas, 1604, is talked 



ARABELLA STUART. 24S 

of, that was to cost the exchequer three thousand 
pounds, to be performed by the " Court of Ladies." 
There was no want of entertainments, or of " mar- 
rying and giving in marriage," at the Court ; as if 
every one was anxious to change the scene from 
what had formerly taken place in the time of the 
maiden Queen, when a wedding was usually followed 
by arraignment and a prison. 

The following confidential letter to Lady Shrews- 
bury seems to allude to Arabella, who might not 
then be altogether aware that in her case alone the 
customs of the former reign were to be kept up. 

Lady Lumley writes, — 

*' Presently after your ladyship's departure, and 
since my coming to the town, / keard some speech 
of that matchy whereto I wish all happiness, for the 
young man is my near kinsman and the young 
lady I honour and love with all my heart: but 
assure your ladyship it shall no way be spoken of 
by me'' 

If this passage alluded to the marriage of Mary 
Talbot with Lord Pembroke, there would have been 
no occasion for secrecy. 

Soon after this, however, the faithful William 
Fowler — ^that point^device gentleman, in whose and 
Don Ariani's phrase, " Arbella " was " more fairer 
than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth 
itself," — ^writing to Lord Shrewsbury, in his usual 
vein, says, amongst such passages as — *' I am not 



244 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

mine, afore God, more than I am yours. Since 
my last there are no other novells: that letter I 
did write with my servant's hand, my former 
finger of the right hand being riffled verye vyldlie 
with a pin," &c. — ** My Lady Arbella spends her 
time in lecture, reading, hearing of service and 
preaching, and visiting all the princesses. She 
toill not hear of marriage. Indirectly there were 
speeches used in the recommendation of Count 
Maurice, who pretendeth to be Duke of Gueldres. 
/ dare not attempt her'' This last remark, no 
doubt, alludes to some wish her uncle might have 
expressed that Fowler should have spoken in favour 
of some one, but argues not that he presumed to 
think of addressing her himself, or asking a glance 
from her ''sun-beamed eyes;'' for at this very 
moment he must have been aware of that which 
was a matter of conversation at Court, namely, 
that the hand of Arabella was sought by the king 
of Poland, who had sent over an ambassador to 
make the proposal. 

Poland was singularly unlucky in its proffers, for 
the country found it as difficult to obtain a king, as 
its king to gain a wife. It is probable that Arabella's 
inclinations were but little consulted in the matter 
of '' the Polack;" but those of King James were 
against the match, and a refusal was given. It 
is not Ukely that one accustomed to the brilliancy of 
the English Court, and who did not foresee her future 
fate, would have willingly consented to renounce all 



ARABELLA STUART* 245 

the splendours she had been accustomed to, to 
become the queen of a race then considered little 
better than savages, in a country situated 

" Seven leagues beyond man's life." 

Sir Philip Sidney has been commended for refusing 
the crown of Poland; but he had little merit in 
doing so — ^if, indeed, it was not his royal mistress 
who decided for him— as it was tantamount to 
banishment to accept it. The Duke of Anjou, who 
did so, uttered execrations against his stars and his 
brother, who had contrived it to remove him from 
Court ; and his mother, and Catherine de Medici 
herself, is suspected of having poisoned her elder 
son, in order to restore her favourite, Henry, from 
the obhvion into which he had been cast; nor 
did he lose a single moment in flying from his 
detested government as soon as the throne of 
France was vacant. 

It would appear that, after James had proposed 
his favourite Esme Stuart for Arabella, and been 
refused by Queen Elizabeth, he had taken the 
same resolve as the jealous Queen, and would 
not permit her to marry at all. He was very in- 
dignant at the time, and thought himself aggrieved 
by Elizabeth's detaining his uncle's daughter from 
him, and accompanying her refusal to do so with 
hard and contemptueus words.* 

♦ While a mere infant several matches were proposed for her. 
Queen Mary alludes in her letter (see Life of the Countess of 
Shrewsbury, in this volume) to the son of Leicester, 



246 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Another match proposed for Arabella, and always 
without her own consent or knowledge, was no 
other than a cardinal^ the brother of the Duke of 
Parma, whom the Pope was to secularize, and the 
CathoUc party to make King of England, after they 
had stolen away the young bride elect, and made 
her a convert to the Church of Rome. No blame 
could be imputed to her in either of these cases, as 
they occurred entirely without her being aware of 
the " coil" made for her. Nor had she more to do 
with the project of a imion between her and the 
son of the Earl of Northumberland, although the 
fury of the marriage-hating Queen was greatly 
roused upon this occasion, and she altogether for- 
bade the connexion. 

There is nothing extraordinary in the suppo- 
sition, or degrading to Arabella in the fact, of her 
desiring, in aft^r days, when she found herself 
oppressed and neglected, to be, by marriage, placed 
in a position of security; but there seems very 
little ground for reproach to her modesty on this 
head ; although some persons, of course friends to 
her ill-wishers, have made severe remarks on her 
supposed conduct in this particular ; for instance, a 
frequently-quoted paragraph in the letter of a 
courtier of the time, is thought to cast an impu- 
tation on her which she could not have de- 
served : 

" These aflfectations of marriage in her do give 
some advantage to the world of impairing the 



ARABELLA STUART. 247 

reputation of her constant and virtuous dispo- 
sition."* 

But this ill agrees with Fowler's account of the 
grave and studious manner in which her time was 
employed. 

Some disagreement seems to have arisen, the 
year before her death, between the old Countess 
of Shrewsbury and her grand-daughter, Arabella ; 
but it does not appear to have been very serious ; 
and King James himself interfered to reconcile 
them. Edmund Lascelles names it, in that letter 
to her uncle, in which he speaks of his Majesty 
having " commanded two stately tombs to be 
begun at Westminster; one for Queen EKzabeth, 
and one for his mother." There is a passage 
in this epistle which is rather remarkable, as a 
proof of how little delicacy or honourable feeling 
existed between persons of rank when their own 
interest was concerned. The writer, who recom- 
mends the meanness of opening a seal to get at 
the secrets it guards, was no better served himself; 
for he entreats that the record of his baseness may 
be destroyed; yet it remains to show how little 
one in office was to be trusted. 



• Letter of Mr. John Beaulieu to Mr. Trumbtdl. He was 
secretary to Sir Thos. Edmondes, ambassador to the Archduke, 
and King of France. 



248 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 



EDWARD LASCELLES TO THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY. 
1605. 

" Mr. Deane hath writ to the old countess by this 
bearer, which letter I send your lordship here en- 
closed ; that if you please to open it you mayy so that 
it be sealed up handsomely again not to he perceived; 
and that your lordship will seal it up, with this 
letter of mine, to my Lady Wortley, in this other 
paper ; for which purpose / send your lordship my 
sealy that it may not diflfer from the other seal of 
my letter. I hope I need not intreat your lordship 
to dispose so of this letter that it shall not he extant 
hereafter!' 

For what honourable service the Earl bribed this 
honest gentleman does not appear; and he cun- 
ningly pretends to be in ignorance himself why he 
had lately received forty pound in gold from his 
lordship. 

" Some such squire it was," doubtless, who had 
sown division between the old countess and her 
lord for years, and who now endeavoured to do the 
same for Arabella. 

Mr. Lascelles adds, — 

" Mr. Deane told me that the special matter 
contained in his letter to the old countess, was 
to advise her to entreat of his Majesty, that, 
in regard of her service to him, it would please 



ARABELLA STUART. 249 

his Majesty to make her son Candish a Baron, 
which she would think a sufficient honour and 
reward for all. That he thought the King might 
be wrought to do it at the christening of this child; 
and if it pleased her to use him as a soUcitor in it, 
he would use his means to further. 

" I have writ to my lady the news of her 
Majesty's safe delivery, the day, the hour; there- 
fore I trouble not your lordship with the recital 
of that news." 

To this infant of Bang James's, a daughter, the 
Lady Arabella was godmother ; and it appears that, 
on that occasion, at her instance. Sir William Caven- 
dish, the beloved son of her grandmother, was created 
a baron. Great rejoicings took place at the time ; 
and, amongst other marriages looked upon as 
auspicious, that of the afterwards infamous, but 
beautiful, Frances Howard, took place, with the 
much-injiu-ed Earl of Essex, " to the great con- 
tentment of my Lady Leicester," and, perhaps, to 
the secret sorrow of the then enamoured Prince 
Henry, who had been fascinated by her dangerous 
beauty. So little reason have weak mortals for 
either their exultation or regret ! 

Mr. Edmimd Lascelles's information does not 
appear very correct ; perhaps, however, he was pur- 
posely deceiving his friend. Lord Shrewsbury ; for he 
informs him, in a letter from court, at this time, that 
Sir William Cavendish had no chance of his barony. 



250 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

though he waited hard on Lady Arabella for it : 
he represents her as very cold in the business, 
though she had the King's promise for one of her 
uncles to be a baron. 

By this it would seem she was in high favour : 
the end proved Mr. Lascelles wrong, as Sir WU- 
liam obtained the honour he sought, whether he 
was right in his estimate of the candidate's cha- 
racter or not. He says, " it is not likely to be 
Mr. William, for he is very sparing in his gratuity^ 
as I hear ; would be glad it were done, but would 
be sorry to part with anything for the doing of it ; 
and I think he will find in this place an equal 
proportion betwixt his liberality and our courtesy. 
His chief solicitor to my Lady Arbella, is Sir 
William Bagot. I was with Mr. Candish at my 
Lady Arbella's chamber, and he entreated me to 
speak to my Lady Bedford to further him, and to 
soKcit my Lady Arbella in his behalf; but ^oke 
nothing of anything that might move her to spend her 
breath for him; so that, by the grace of God, he is 
likely to come good speed, and I need not write to 
your lordship that there will be earls and barons 
made at the christening, because your lordship sees 
Mr. William Cavendish is come up to be one ; but 
I will not omit to let your lordship know who they 
are," &c.* 

* It seems that bribery was carried to a great pitch at this 
time ; men unblushingly offering sums of money for places, pen- 
sions, and titles, which were as readily accepted, and regular nego- 



ARABELLA STUAKT. 2B1 

Gaieties and rejoicings still were the order of the 
day;— 

" All went merry as a marriage bell." 

The churching of the Queen was attended with 
much ceremony, and tilts and games abounded.. 
The Earl of Montgomery is spoken of as distin^ 
guishing himself id these fetes, and 

" The Herberts every cockepitt day 
Doe carry away 
The gold and glory of the day." * 

Prince Henry, the hope and admiration of the 
EngUsh nation, — the example of all the young 
men of rank of the Court, severe in early virtue, 
firm in principle, and unshaken in piety ; the 
living contrast to his father, whose meannesses and 
vices distracted him; the friend of Raleigh, and 
the supporter of all the learning, wisdom, and 
honour; the object of his father's fear and envy, 
and the terror of his chastised favourite, Carr — was 
a kind cousin to the desolate Arabella, a proof, 
if any were wanting, that she by no means leant 
to the side of the CathoUcs. It has been hinted 

tiations carried on almost openly, and with the king's knowledge. 
One lady writes to Lady Shrewsbury, asking her interference with 
the Lords of the Privy Council, especially Lord Cranbome and the 
Lord Treasurer ; and she says, ** I make sure of the King's con- 
sent if I can get their's ; therefore, once again* good madam, I 
humbly beseech you to write again to them in my behalf, whereby 
I may be soon dispatched, and what consideration they will deem 
fitting for me to make for such favour I will," 

♦ See Life of Mary, Countess of Pembroke, in this volume. 



252^ EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

that his opinion of her was altered after her unfortu- 
nate marriage, but there is nothing to warrant 
that behef. The following letter shows the terms 
they were on at the time it was written : — 

" Sir, — My intention to attend Your Highness 
to-morrow, God willing, cannot stay me from 
acknowledging, by these few lines, how infinitely 
I am bound to your Highness for that gracious 
disposition towards me, which faileth not to show 
itself upon every occasion, whether accidental or 
begged by me, as this late high favour and grace 
it hath pleased your Highness to do my kinsman 
at my humble suit. 

*' I trust to-morrow to let your Highness under- 
stand such motives of that my presumption as 
shall make it excusable. For your highness shall 
perceive I both understand with what extraordinary 
respect suits are to be presented to your Highness^ 
and withall, that your goodness doth so temper 
your greatness as it encourageth both me and 
many others to hope that we may taste the fruits 
of the one by means of the other. 

" The Almighty make your Highness every way 
such as I, Mr. Newton,* and Sir David Murray 
(the only intercessors I have used in my suit, or 
wiQ, in any I shall present to your Highness) wish 
you, and then shall you be ever such as you axe, 

* His tutor. 



ARABELLA STUART. 253 

and your growth, and virtue, and grace with God 
and men, shall be the only alteration we will pray 
for, 

And so in all humility I cease. 
Your Highness's, 

Most humble and dutiful, 

Arbella Stuart. 

"From London the 18. of October, 1605.'' 



In 1607 Arabella lost her grandmother, " the 
old and great countess,'' and her loss appears to 
have had a great effect on her spirits and health, 
for a time. It has been already recounted how, 
immediately on her death, her sons and sons-in-law 
began disputing about her possessions. William 
Baron Cavendish, lost no opportunity of overreach- 
ing his careless and indolent elder brother, Henry, 
who, feeble in body and worn in mind, was imable 
to cope with his art and management. The follow- 
ing letter shows the character of the two brothers, 
and exhibits the Lady Arabella gay, hvely, and full 
of enjoyment ; dancing at a wedding, and planning 
and arranging bridal parties. She was, at this 
moment, probably, at the height of that cheerfulness 
which coming events were soon to efface for ever. 
Till now, probably, she had passed on amidst the 
crowd of her admirers, 

" In maiden meditation » fancy free ;" 



264 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

but, having once met, which she evidently did about 
this period, the being whose affection was to influ- 
ence her future Ufe, her mind had no longer room 
for aught but anxiety, terror, and care. 

For this brief moment we may see her in all the 
bloom of youth and beauty, full of life and liveli- 
ness, and rejoicing in the pleasure of others. 

Henry Cavendish relates to his supposed friend, 
Earl Gilbert, the adventure of the wedding of Lord 
Cavendish's son, and the almost infant daughter of 
Lord Kinloss.* 

MR. HENRY CAVENDISH TO GILBERT, EARL OF 
SHREWSBURY.! 1608. 

" My most honoured Lord, 

" On Sunday last I wished I could have sent your 
good Lordship a dove with a letter under her wing, 
to have advertised your Lordship of such news as 
came very strange to me. About the hour of nine 
in the morning, at which time my Lord Cavendish 
sent to me by his man, Smith, to excuse him that he 
had not made me privy to his son's marriage to the 
Lord of Kinloss's daughter. The reason was, he 
had great enemies, and, if it had been made public, 
he might have been crossed ; and the chief cause he 
so married him was, to strengthen himself against 



* See the Life of Christian, Countess of Devonshire, in this 
work. 

t MS. Johnstone. 



ARABELLA STUART. 265 

his adversaries. I wished all might prove to their 
comforts. 

'* My Lady Arbella was there at dimier, and my 
Jjady Cavendish, the baroness, and so were they at 
supper, and both danced in rejoicing and honour of 
the wedding. 

" The bride is meetly handsome, as they say, of a 
red hail* and about twelve years of age, Alas ! 
poor Wylkin! he desired and deserved a woman 
already grown, and may evil stay twelve weeks for 
a wife, much less twelve months. * * * 

" The next day I waited on my Lady Arbella, at 
Whitehall, and told her honour I thought it was 
she that made the match, which her ladyship 
denied, but not very earnestly, affirming she knew 
nothing of it till that morning the marriage was, 
and that she was invited to the wedding-dinner. 
I told her ladyship much my betters would thmk so, 
and ten thousand beside." 

Henry Cavendish goes on to relate the treachery 
of his brother, who having by this apparent confi- 
dence thrown him off his guard, that very night 
sent an officer who served him with *' a subpana 
into the Chancery J' to appear within fourteen days. 

The object of Lord Cavendish was to overreach 
him about the entaQ of his estates, to wliich he 
desired to be named heir, as Henry had no 
children: the averseness of Henry to business 
favoured his designs. " I am," he says, " so unfit 



256 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

and unapt for these law matters, as this only matter 
drives me into such agony, discontent, and pertur- 
bation of mind, as will lessen my time, God 
revenge my wrongs upon them be causers of it. 
I hope in Jesus my cruel brother shall not have his 
will altogether to his liking." 

Notwithstanding his bad state of health, Henry 
lived eight years after he had been worried by Lord 
William into agreeing to all his demands, and 
leaving him heir to all his possessions, which 
by his carelessness were greatly involved. 

The spirit of the old countess seemed to animate 
her favourite son, who thus overreached his less 
acute brother. 

There is even a suspicion attaching to the impa- 
tient and unnatural brother, of having administered 
poison to his victim, in order the sooner to become 
the owner of his wealth. 

Henry died in 1616 ; and, after all the struggle to 
gain his possessions, the then Earl of Devonshire 
lived only nine years after him. Both are buried in 
the church at the pretty, fancifully-built village of 
Edensor, close to the gates of Chatsworth Park — ^a 
little fairy place which, under its present aspect, is 
not one of the least attractive of the many singular 
beauties in that charmed region. 

The " poor Wylkin," whose lot in marrying a 
mere child his uncle so feeUngly deplores, was after^ 
wards the second Earl of Devonshire; he had for 



ARABELLA STUART. 257 

his tutor the famous Hobbs, the philosopher of 
Mahnesbury; from whom it is said, though he 
derived great advantages on the score of learning, 
he did not adopt the rehgious or political opinions 
which gave so much offence to many. 

The young bridegroom had just returned from 
his travels through France and Italy, when the 
match with Christian, the daughter of Lord Bruce, 
of Ejnloss, was made for him; and, though his 
own choice had nothing to do in the matter, one 
more judicious, as time proved it, could hardly have 
been made. His father, however, had none but 
views of ambition and utility in thus giving his son 
a vsdfe jfrom a powerful family, descended from the 
royal house of Bruce, of Scotland. The young 
nobleman hved in great hospitahty, and seemed, 
with more talent, to be not unlike his uncle, Henry, 
in profusion and carelessness, for his estate, at his 
death, which happened only three years after that 
of his father, was greatly encumbered. 

His young wife and a son eleven years of age 
were left, therefore, in a somewhat difficult posi- 
tion; but, by the wisdom and management of the 
Lady Christian — ^who seemed a pattern of female 
excellence — ^by the time the young earl came of age, 
all the debts were paid off, and he found himself 
master of a magnificent fortime. Hobbes, who 
had been his father's tutor, was continued as his 
preceptor, and his pupil did him all the honour 
imaginable. They seem to have lived much at 

VOL. I. s 



258 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Hardwick, where Hobbes, whc^e picture may be 
seen in the gallery there, died at a very advanced 
age, and is buried in the parish church of Halt- 
Hucknall, in the neighbourhood. 

If one might judge of characters by records on 
tombstones, that of William, the first Etffl of 
Devonshire, the favourite son of the old Countess 
of Shrewsbury, would be believed more perfect 
than his actions warrant. His son, " poor WyUdn," 
bestowed on him the follomng epitaph, in Latin, 
thus rendered, — ^probably Hobbes had some hand 
in its composition : 

" Sacred to William Cavendish, second son of the 
same parents, who has left here all his mortal parts : 
a man born to execute every laudable enterprize, 
and, in the simpUcity of virtue, rather deserving 
than courting glory. When James, King of Great 
Britam, distinguished him with the title of Baron 
of Hardwick, and afterwards of Earl of Devonshire, 
he seemed not so much to dignify the man as 
the honours. With what address, integrity and 
applause, he maintained his character, ask common 
fame, which seldom lies. And, of this man, who 
was amongst the best men of his age, and would 
have been so had he Hved in any other, ^^ ou^ht to 
be cautious how we speak or are silefit. He was 
laborious and faithful to the highest degree. 
While most active, he seemed to be doing 
nothing; and succeeded in everjd^hing, while to 



ARABELLA STUART. 259 

himself he arrogated nothing. As he has left it 
in charge to be buried: without pomp or parade, his 
sorrowful son has erected this monument with 
greater affection than expense."* 

Another letter on the same subject, from the 
Earl and Countess of Arundel to their parents, more 
particularly names Arabella as having a hand in 
this marriage; which, it has been said, was made by 
the King ; this letter contradicts that assertion ; on 
the contrary, James was annoyed at it at first, 
though shortly after he excused it, and even went 
so far as to make up the bride's fortune ten thou- 
sand pounds. 



*' April 10, 1608. 

" We could not omit to advertise your lordship 
of an accident that will be so welcome to you as 
that our cousin Cavendish hath gotten a good wife, 
who was this Sunday, in the morning, married to 
my Lord of Kinloss's daughter. The matter hath 
been so secretly carried, that it was never heard of 
till it was done, and, for me, I think I was the last ; 



* The tomb may still be seen in Edensor eburcb, with the 
recumbent figure of William Cavendish, evidently done from a 
model taken after death ; the face attenuated and worn, but with 
beautiful features. A skeleton, extremely well executed in marble, 
lies by it. In niches above hang his armour and his state robes, 
«nd two figures, representing Mars and Minerva or Wisdom and 
Valour, support the whole. 

s 2 



260 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

for, at my going to Whitehall after dinner, the 
Queen told me of it, and says, that in the morning 
John Elveston asked her leave to go to the wedding, 
which she could not believe till she heard it con- 
firmed by more certainty. 

" The Queen hears that Elveston, and, it is 
thought, my Lady Arbella, were the match- 
makers, and that Elveston hath five or six hundred 
pounds; that the wench is a pretty red-headed 
wench,* and that her portion is seven thousand 
pounds : and she hears the youth at first refused her ^ 
('PoorWylkin!') 

" And my Lord Cavendish told his son that Kin- 
loss was well favoured by the Queen, and, if he 
refused, he would make him the worse by a hun- 
dred thousand pounds : but I am sure the Queen 
is far from being pleased withal' now it is done. 
&c. &c. 

" Your Lordship's affectionate son and daughter 
to command, 

" Arundel- Arundel." 



John Hercy, who seems a useful spy for his 
master, has the same news to tell the earl, who 
was not likely to have taken any very affectionate 

• " A red-haired wench" seemed a favourite term of the time ; 
and Macbeth 's witches followed the fashion in preparing their 
cauldron. 



ARABELLA STUART. 261 

interest in the proceedings of a person of whom he 
had long been so jealous. These correspondents 
give but a mean opinion of those who could employ 
them in so pitiful a traffic ! 

" Right Hon\ — ^This morning, about eight of 
the clock, in the Chapel of the Rolls, Mr. William 
Cavendishe, the Lord Cavendishe's son, was married 
to the Master of the Rolls's daughter, a young 
gentlewoman of thirteen years of age or there- 
abouts. Yesterday about noon, as I am informed, 
it was not concluded between their Lordships, 
whether it should be a match ; albeit they had 
spent most part of the forenoon about the same, 
and likewise some conference two or three days 
before. I daily endeavoured, according to my 
former letters to*your lordship, to find out what the 
Lady Cavendish's suit might be with the Master of 
the Rolls's lady : and yesterday, about five in the 
afternoon, / sorted myself near where Mr, S\ LoOy 
and some other of Mr. Cavendish's councely were in 
very earnest and private conference about something 
for this business, as it now seemeth. And albeit I 
could not then fitly come so near to hear the matter 
at large yet so near unseen, that I heard something 
to this purpose, for I then perceived, both by the 
gesture and also by some speech used by Mr. St. 
Loo to the other councel, that the Lord Cavendish 
was exceedingly earnest to have the business which 
they had in hand presently dispatched." 



262 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

He goes on with many trifling particulars, 
proving his own paltry character, as well as that 
of his employer, doubtless keeping closely to the 
wise policy of Shakspeare's courtier, who boasts : 

" Thus do we of wisdom and of truth 
With windlaces and with assays of bias, 
By indirections find directions out." 

" Also," he continues, " many times I heard them 
name the sum of five hundred pounds for the 
present maintenance (which sum I then conceived 
to mean £500 per an.) to be assured to some party 
which / could not come so near to hear named, for 
Mr. St. Loo most commonly did pronounce his 
words, much like to his name, low. 

" I hear that the Lord Cavendish presently after 
the marriage went to Whitehall, to entreat my Lady 
Arbella to come to the Rolls to the wedding- 
dinner, and that her ladyship came accordingly. I 
also hear that his Lordship sent in like sort to 
invite Mr. Henry Cavendish, but it is said he toent 
notr 

In the latter particular, the trusty Hercy was 
misinformed, as Henry Cavendish's letter proves. 

Whether the pension granted to Lady Arabella 
by the King was not correctly paid, or that she 
found it insufficient for the maintenance of her 
state, it seems she was continually annoyed by her 
inability to meet her expenses. It is somewhat 
singular, that the Countess of Shrewsbury, with her 



ARABELLA STUAET. 263 

enonnous wealth and ambitious views, should not 
have provided adequately for her grand-daughter : 
perhaps in the later part of her life, the differences 
said to have existed between them influenced her in 
the disposition of her property, for certain it is that 
poor Arabella was dependent on the royal bounty ; 
which was but sparingly extended to her, though 
distributed with so profuse a hand to others. The 
Queen's allowance was greater than that of any 
Queen consort ever known, and the expenditure 
of James doubled that of Queen Elizabeth; the 
inconsiderate gifts he lavished on his unworthy 
favourites reduced his ministers to despair ; unused 
to wealth, he thought the treasure he found on his 
accession to the throne inexhaustible, and cast 
about his gold with both hands, into the midst 
of the hungry crowd of Scotch followers who 
pressed around him. 

Anecdotes are told by his friends to prove his 
generosity; but they rather show his thoughtless- 
ness, and ignorance of the value of what he gave 
away so lightly. It is said that, on one occasion, 
as he was standing in the midst of his courtiers, a 
porter passed along, loaded with money which he 
was carrying to the treasury. The eyes <rf one of 
his favourites. Rich, afterwards Eaii of Holland^ 
followed the man with an anxious expression, as he 
whispered something to a companion. The King 
observed the gesture, and inquired its meaning, 



264 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

which he discovered to be, that Rich had remarked 
that if so much money belonged to him it would 
make him perfectly happy. James, without a 
moment's hesitation, bestowed the coveted treasure 
on him, although it amounted to three thousand 
pounds ; accompanying the gift with this gracious 
remark: — " You consider yourself fortunate in 
obtaining so large a sum ; but I am more so in 
finding an opportunity of obliging a worthy man 
whom I esteem." 

This fine phrase is put into the King's mouth 
by the historian, Hume, who professes to think that 
the generosity of James arose " rather irom a beviign 
humour or light fancy ;" somewhat different attri- 
butes, it must be confessed, " than reason or judg- 
ment." 

There are few instances of his exhibiting this 
liberaUty, except to favourites and dependants, 
generally as unworthy and selfish as himself ; yet, 
even towards them, his native meanness sometimes 
burst forth, when he found to what an extent his 
open-handedness had been betrayed by his ig- 
norance. 

Carr, his first favourite after he came to England 
— a man probably rendered wicked and worthless 
by the strange position into which fortune had thrust 
him — ^having obtained from his weak and doating ' 
master a peremptory warrant to the treasurer for 
.twenty thousand pounds, that minister, foreseeing 



ARABELLA STUART. 265 

the fature inability of the exchequer to answer 
demands so enormous, and, says Osbom, who 
relates the story, " apprehending that the King 
was as ignorant of the worth of what was demanded 
as of the desert of the person who begged it, and 
knowing that a pound, upon the Scottish account, 
would not pay for the shoeing of a horse, by which 
his master might be farther led out of the way of 
thrift than in his natm'e he was willing to go, made 
as much parade as possible in preparing the money 
for payment ; for he had the gold placed in heaps 
on the floor of the apartment through which the 
King must necessarily pass/' 

The contrivance succeeded ; for it was impossible 
that James could fail to observe so conspicuous an 
object. He paused in astonishment ; and, gazing 
on the glittering treasure in amazement, begged the 
Lord Treasurer to inform him to whom so large a 
sum belonged ; the answer filled him with con- 
sternation, for Cecil hastened to say that it was his 
own until he gave it away, James, seized with 
astonishment and anger, gave way to a burst of 
passion, and, with many exclamations, threw him- 
self upon the heap, vowing that Carr should have 
no more than he then grasped in his hands. The 
Treasurer then, thinking it politic to steer a middle 
course between the King and his favourite, repre- 
sented that his royal promise being given, he was 
not at liberty to break it altogether; and the 
affair ended in the disappointed minion getting an 



266 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

inconsiderable part of the original sum, whicb^ 
however, could ill enough be spared at such a 
time. 

That James knew well the value of money when 
destined to his own use, appears from the '^pleasant 
conceit" with which he indulged the Commons, 
when they were deliberating on fixing a revenue to 
be allowed him. 

" As concerning,'' says Winwood, '* the number 
of nine-score thousand pounds, which was our 
number, he could not affect, because nine was 
the number of the poets, who were always beg* 
gars, though they served so many muses; and 
eleven was the number of the apostles when the 
traitor, Judas, was away, and therefore might best 
be affected by his Majesty ; but there was a mean 
number which might accord us both, and t/iat was 
ten ; which, says my Lord Treasurer, is a saored 
number ; for so many were God's commandments, 
which tend to virtue and edification." " If the 
Commons really voted twenty thousand pounds a 
year more on account of this pleasant conceit of the 
King's," says Hume, -* it was certainly the best 
paid wit, for its goodness, that ever was in the 
world." 

It is rather a pleasant reflection, howevo*, that, 
after all, the witty monarch never received the 
money; his Commons, apparently, not being suffi- 
ciently sensible of the worth of his wise saws. 

Osbom, who writes very bitterly against the 



AJUBULLA STUART. 267 

Scotch followers of the Court, amongst other gossip- 
ping remarks, says — 

'^ Now by this time the nation grew feeble and 
oveqpressed with impositions, monopolies y aids, privy- 
seals, concealments, pretermitted cmfoms, &c. besides 
aU forfeitures upon penal statutes, with a multitude 
of tricks more to cheat the English subject (the 
most, if not all, unheard of in Queen Elizabeth's 
days) which were spent upon the Scots, by whom 
nothing was unasked, and to whom nothing was 
denied ; who, for want of honest traffic, did extract 
gold out of the faults of the English, whose pardons 
they begged, and sold at intolerable rates, murder 
itself not being exempted. Nay, I dare boldly say, 
one man might with more safety have killed ano- 
ther ihsLTi a raskal-deer; but if a stag had been 
known to have miscarried and the author fled, a 
proclamation with the description of the party had 
been presently penned by the Attorney-General, 
and the penalty of his Majesty's high displeasure (by 
which was understood the Star Chamber) threat- 
ened against all that did abet, comfort, or reUeve 
him. Thus satirical, or, if you please, tragical, 
was this Sylvan prince against deer-killers, and 
indulgent to man-slayers. But, least this impres- 
sion should be thought too poetical for an historian, 
I shall leave him dressed to posterity in the colours 
I saw him in the next progress after his inaugura- 
tion, which was as green as the grass he trod on. 



268 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

with a feather in his cap, and a horn, instead of a 
sfwofdy by his side ; how suitable to his age, calling, 
or person, I leave others to judge from his pictures, 
he owning a countenance not in the least regard 
semblable to any my eyes ever met with, besides an 
host dweUing in Anthill, formerly a shepherd, and 
so, metaphorically, of the same profession. 

" He that evenmg parted from his Queen, and to 
show himself more uxoricms before the people* at his 
first coming than in private he was, he did at her 
coach side take leave by kissing her sufficiently to 
the middle of her shoulders, for so low she went 
bare all the days I had the fortune to know her, 
having a skin far more amiable than the features it 
covered, though not the disposition, in which report 
rendered her very debonaire." 

There is a paper preserved by Lodge, drawn up 
by some of Arabella's friends, and indorsed by the 
Earl of Shrewsbury, her uncle : 

" A copy of that which the King's Majesty is to 
be moved to sign touching oats, July, 1608." 

It does not appear certain that she did ever 
really derive the benefit proposed; probably the 
discovery of her attachment to Seymour, about this 

♦ It is this passage to which D'Israeli alludes when he says, 
endeaTOuring to vindicate the character of James, " Francis 
Osborne, indeed, has censured James for giving marks of his 
uxoriousness" It was for feigning a fondness in public which his 
private conduct did not confirm, that Osborn censures the king, 



ARABELLA STUART. 269 

time, rendered it unnecessary, in King James's 
opinion, for him to furnish his well-beloved cousin 
with the means of living, as her future abode in 
the Tower would be at his charge. 

" Our will and pleasure is, that there be given 
and granted unto our trusty and well-beloved cousin, 
the Lady Arbella Stuart, and unto her deputy or 
deputies, for and during the whole term of one and 
twenty years next after the date of our letters patent, 
sufficient power and authority, under our great seal 
of England, for us, and in our name and right, and 
to our use in all places within our realm of England 
and Wales, to take yearly a bond or recognizance 
of five pounds of every inn-holder or hostler, 
wherein the said inn-holder or hostler shall be 
bound not to take any more than sixpence gain, 
over and above the common price in the market, 
for and in every bushel of oats which he or they 
shall vent or sell,* in gross or by retail, unto any 
passengers or travellers. The said bushel also or 
any other measure to be according to the ancient 
measure or standard of England, commonly called 
Winchester measure. 

"And we will also that our said well-beloved 
cousin, the Lady Arbella, or her deputy or deputies, 
shall take for every such bond or recognizance of 
every run-holder or hostler the sum of 2^. & 6d., 
whereof one full fifth part our will is that she or her 
deputy or deputies shall retain to her or their own 



270 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

use in consideration of pains and charges. And 
our further pleasure is, that our said cousin shall 
have fiill power and authority to depute any 
person or persons, during the said term, for the 
execution of the foresaid power so given and 
granted unto her. 

" Jh our trusty and well-beloved Sergeant at the 
Law our Attorney General, and to any ofthem,^' 



''REASONS WHEREFORE HIS MAJESTY MAY GRANT, 
THIS SUIT : 

" 1. Your Majesty's revenues shall be increased a 
1000"' per annum, without any charge to your 
Majesty. 

" 2. The inn-holder or hostler shall receive ten 
times more than ever any law heretofore allowed 
them. 

" 3. The travelling subject of all sorts, as noble- 
men, judges, lawyers, gentlemen, linnen^men, woolen- 
men, Aardwaremen, and carriers, who are the 
upholders of all trades within this land, shall in 
their travel be much eased ; and thereby wares may 
be sold in the country the cheaper. 

" 4. The common measure of this land shall then 
be used which now is not ; for the inn-holder and 
hostler doth by his hostry measure make six pecks 
at the least of every bushel, and so thereby eveiy 
one only quarter of oats so by them retailed 



ARABELLA STUART. 271 

weekly, amoimteth at the least to forty-five pounds 
in the year or thereabouts, and they buy the same 
generally at ten shillings at the most. 

" 6. In the last dear years the inn-holders did 
raise the price of oats to sixpence their peck which 
they sold before for threepence or fourpence at the 
most; smce which time they never abated the 
price of sixpence their peck."* 

This was probably about the time when '' Hodin 
ostler died/' — " Poor fellow ! never joyed since 
the price of oats rose — ^it was the death of him." 

The inn-keepers must have trembled at the 
chance of this impost passing, however advan- 
tageous the change might be for those whom a 
late historianf denominates "^i^ men," 

Probably, Lady Arabella never derived the ad- 
vantage sought ; and about this period b^ situa- 
tion at Court appeared to become very irksome; 
she saw that her favour with her cousin, the King, 
rested on a very insecure basis : the friendship of 
Prince Henry was rather an injury than a benefit 
to her ; for, wedded to his favourite Carr, James 
looked on his son with suspicious jealousy, ex- 
claiming, when the Prince's Court was well attended 
and kept up with great magnificence — " What, do 
they mean to bury me before I am dead ?" 

• This paper was followed by a petition from Francis Rodes, 
Esq. and Benjamin Fisher, Gentleman, praying that the impost 
may be granted to them instead of to the Lady Arabella. — Lodge. 

f Carlisle. 



272 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

He could not hide from himself that his son dis- 
approved of his manners and habits, and he saw 
his superiority with envy and malignity, instead of 
pride. As long as he thought Arabella remained 
unnoticed and insignificant, he was content to allow 
of her presence ; but when he found her an object of 
admiration for her accomplishments, beauty, and 
manners, he began to reflect that she was also a 
dangerous rival in his way ; he was well aware of 
her innocence as regarded any of the plots which 
had disturbed his reign, but he felt that she 
was a fit person around whom the disajffected 
might rally: she was too interesting, however 
faultless, and the sight of her began daily to cause 
him more and more uneasiness. Above all, he 
dreaded her marrying, and he observed v^dth annoy- 
ance, that she was much admired and sought. 

He, however, dissembled his feelings so that she 
should not altogether lose her confidence in him, 
and apparently he succeeded too well in all his 
designs. Although unconscious how far, Arabella 
could not but feel that she was unjustly suspected, 
and could look to no one for protection. Young, 
full of feehng and tenderness, with a heart capable 
of receiving lively impressions, trembling beneath 
the frown of a despot, the mark of designing per- 
sons, the object of dislike to many, and of real 
regard to few, nothing could be more natural than 
that she should desire to meet with one who, by 
adopting her interests as his own, sharing her 



ARABELLA STUART. 273 

hopes and partaking her difficulties, should render 
her life less painful, if not open for her a new 
career of happiness and tranquillity. 

Whether a touch of compassion illumined for 
a brief space the night of selj&shness in the heart 
of King James, or by what imagined policy or 
caprice he was directed, does not appear ; but he 
suddenly took his desolate cousin into an unwonted 
degree of favour, allowing her a thousand marks to 
pay her debts, and making her a present of plate 
to the value of two hundred pounds. Encouraged 
by this apparent kindness, Arabella, who had lately 
become aware of the affection, which she felt she 
could return, of Sir William Seymour, second son 
of Lord Beauchamp, and grandson of the Earl 
of Hertford, ventured to hint to the King the 
possibility of her receiving a suitable offer of mar- 
riage. This communication was Ustened to very 
graciously ; and James, somewhat, no doubt, to her 
surprise, let her know that he should not object, 
provided her choice fell on one of his subjects 
whose addresses he could approve. 

However satisfied with the permission, there was 
a reservation in the last clause which rendered the 
timid Arabella distrustful: she revolved in her 
mind the danger of her attachment being looked 
upon with disfavour, and she dared not proclaim at 
once the fact of her election being made. 

How many fearful consultations might she and 
her lover have had on the subject so fraught with 

VOL. I. T 



274 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

interest to them both, before they mutually resolved 
to conceal their affection, yet decided to unite their 
fate in secret ! In a happy hour for their love, but 
a fatal one for their future happiness, they took 
this dangerous step, and, irom that moment, the 
doom of Arabella was sealed.* 

The suspicions of King James, once aroused, 
slept no more ; and, for the future, his unprotected 
cousin was but a mark for his cruelty and injustice. 
All the sorrows and oppressions of his mother, 
caused by the hard-hearted selfishness of her rival, 
instead of leading his mind to compassion and 
indulgence, had but awakened within him all the 
bitter feelings which they should have suppressed. 
Without the popular qualities of EUzabeth, without 
her genius for governing, her wisdom, or her sense, 
he possessed the same failings and weaknesses, the 
same craft and cruelty, the same vindictiveness and 
pride. Self was his idol, as it had been hers ; but 

* By a singular fatality this Sir William Seymour exactly 
followed the steps of his grandfather, the Earl of Hertford, who 
married clandestinely the sister of Jane Grey, that hapless 
Catherine, who suffered, under Queen Elizabeth, the same perse- 
cution, for the same cause, with one of the same family as 
Arabella. 

When the aged Hertford was forced to appear before the 
Council, on the occasion of his grandson's misdemeanour in 
having married one of the royal race, how strange must have 
been his feelings, and all the old wounds of his youth must have 
been re-opened! It is no wonder that, as he read the paper 
ordering him to appear, and recounting the circumstances of the 
flight of the lovers, his hand should tremble in such a manner 
that the scroll he held was half consumed by the taper he read it 
by : such is the account given by an historian of the time. 



ARABELLA STUART. 275 

he cared not that any should benefit in his gratifi- 
cation, and sacrificed everything to his own safety : 
he abandoned Raleigh to his cowardice, and Ara- 
bella to his mean fears ; and, if report say true, 
his eldest son to his jealousy. 

The first mention of Arabella's name and Sey- 
mour's coupled, occurs in the letter, already alluded 
to, of John Beauheu's, dated 15th Feb. 1609. 

" The Lady Arabella, who, as you know, was not 
long ago censured for having, without the King's 
privaty, entertained a motion of marriage, was 
again, within these few days, deprehended in the 
Uke treaty with my Lord of Beauchamp's second 
son, and both were called and examined yesterday 
at the court about it. What the matter will prove 
I know not." 

The positive fact of the marriage having taken 
place did not appear to be known ; but there is no 
doubt that they were married in 1609, in the early 
part of the year. For awhile they contrived to carry 
on their meetings with such privacy as to give 
no alarm; but their manner towards each other 
betrayed them, and the suspicious eyes of James 
began to be opened. He did not, however, wish 
to know, or to acknowledge that he knew, too 
much, and, therefore, feigned to be highly scan- 
daUzed at what he pretended to think presumption 
on the part of Seymour, and levity on that of 
Arabella. Terrified at the outbiu-st of his indig- 

T 2 



276 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

nation, the unfortunate pair had no power to declare 
the truth, and could only rely on future events 
to extricate them from the position into which they 
were thrown. Arabella now, with a heavy heart, 
was obliged to perform her part in the pageants at 
Court, and appear as if she and Seymour were 
nothing to each other: probably, for some time, 
they did not even meet; for, on the occasion of 
Prince Henry's creation as Prince of Wales, June 4, 
1610, she is included amongst the princesses who 
assisted at the ceremony. The account is interest- 
ing, both as concerning the amiable person who 
was the chief actor, and also to show the weakness 
and vanity of all earthly hopes and expectations. 
Little did those who then hailed the promising 
young man, just entering into life, full of joyous- 
ness, tempered with native dignity, graceful, gra- 
cious, accomplished, and noble, imagine that in 
little more than two years they should have to 
bewail* his loss ! Of those who bore their parts in 
the solemnity, the chief personages were destined 
to a fate such as, then predicted, would have 
blanched every cheek with fear and sorrow. The 
Prince — 

" Poison'd I—hard fare ;" 

or, if not, carried off so suddenly as to leave 
the cause of his death' a mystery ; his beautiful 
sister — then attended, courted, admired, and 
beloved — a desolate Queen deprived of dominion, 
power, happiness, and hope; a bereaved mother. 



ARABELLA STUART. 277 

and a ruined sovereign. His young brother, 
Charles, a victim, hunted, persecuted, imprisoned, 
ending his days on a scaffold erected by his own 
subjects; and his fair cousin, Arabella, a mark 
of scorn, cruelty, and injustice, deprived of all, 
crushed in her aspirations and affections, and dying 
in a dungeon an unpitied maniac ! It would be 
too sad a task, and, alas! a useless one, if per- 
mitted, to examine the future on every similar occa- 
sion of pomp, revelry, and rejoicing ; the veil 
withdrawn, a grinning skeleton would be seen 
behind the back of every guest, watching the 
moment to claim its destined prey. 

There is, however, something very graceful and 
pleasing in the pageant of young people, so simply 
described by the narrator, far surpassing all the 
magnificence of that played by those of a larger 
growth on this eventful day, when the grandchildren 
of Mary Stuart — ^she the imprisoned and immolated 
victim — ^were advancing, with dancing steps, from 
their cradles to the tomb which was gaping for the 
youthful hero of the moment, and his innocent and 
unconscious brother ! 

The letter giving these details is supposed to be 
written to Mr. Trumbull by Mr. John Finnett, 
afterwards master of the ceremonies, 4 June, 
1610. 

" You shall now receive a letter which is not 
short, and yet no more than only the report of three 



278 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

days' work. ' The Prince's creation was upon Mon- 
day last, whereof a special place was provided within 
the palace of Westminster. Where both the houses 
of Parliament being for that time assembled, his 
Majesty, entering in his royal robes, his crown upon 
his head, did first take his place of state ; his train 
was supported by the Viscount Cranboume and the 
Lord Burleigh. After a good space of time, the 
Prince entered at the lower end of the great 
chamber, having a surcoat of purple velvet close 
girt unto him. The order of his coming was in 
this fashion : 

" The trumpets sounding, in the first place came 
the Earls of Worcester and Sufiblk, the one cham- 
berlain, the other marshal. 

" In the next place followed twenty-five Knights 
of the Bath : all these were in their robes of purple 
satin. Next unto these followed Garter-King-at- 
Arms, and after him these great lords : 

" The Earl of Sussex carried the Prince's robe ; 
the Earl of Huntingdon, the train ; Cumberland, the 
sword ; Derby, the stafi" of gold ; Rutland, the ring ; 
and Shrewsbury, the crown. The Earls of Notting- 
ham and Northampton did lead up the Prince, who, 
presenting himself before his father, with very sub- 
missive reverence kneeled . upon the uppermost 
step leading to the state, while his patent was read 
by the Earl of Salisbury, imtil he came to the 
putting on of his robes, sword, and the rest per- 
formed by the lords who carried them; but the 



ARABELLA STUART. 279 

crpwn, the staff, the ring, and the patent, were 
delivered unto him with the King's own hands. 
Which done, and the Prince, with a low reverence, 
offering to depart, the King stepped to him, and, as 
it were by the way of a welcome into that degree of 
greatness, took him by the hand, and then kissed him. 

"Which done, the Prince did take his place, 
sitting there in his royal robes, the crown upon his 
head, the staff in one hand, and the patent in the 
other, while a public act was read, testifying how, 
in the presence of such and such, he had been 
declared Prince of Great Britain and of Wales. 
This done, the King, the Prince, and all the rest, 
in a most well-ordered and stately manner, returned 
by water to Whitehall. 

" The King dined privately in his privy chamber ; 
but the Prince was served in the great hall, and 
that in such state as greater could not be done unto 
the King. Tlie table, being very long, was served 
with two messes of meat* and he that sat nearest 
the Prince was the full distance of half the board 
from him. The Earl of Pembroke served the 
Prince as server; the Lord Southampton was his 
carver; the Earl of Montgomery his cup-bearer; 
and the Lord Walden brought the glass with 
water. 

• The terms used in description at that period convey no very 
gorgeous idea to the reader of the present day : messes of meal 
would rather seem to apply to a dinner given by a farmer to his 
men on occasion of a wake or harvest-home, than the entertain- 
ment of royalty. 



280 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

"The noblemen who did sit at the board, all 
in their robes, as the Prince was likewise, were 
these : the Marquess of Winchester, Earls of Salis- 
buiy, Northampton, Nottingham, Shrewsbury, 
Derby, Cumberland, Huntingdon, and Sussex. 

" At a long sideboard did all the Knights of the 
Bath dine, and none other. During the whole time 
of dinner the hall resounded with all kinds of most 
exquisite music. 

'* The next day was graced with a most glorious 
mask, which was double. In the first, came first in 
the little Duke of York, between two great sea 
slaves, the chiefest of Neptune's servants, attended 
upon by twelve little ladies, all of them the daugh- 
ters of Earls or Barons. 

" By one of the slaves a speech was made unto 
the King and Prince, expressing the conceit of the 
mask ; by the other, a sword, worth twenty thou- 
sand crowns, at the least, was put into the Duke of 
York's hands, who presented the same unto the 
Prince his brother, from the first of those ladies 
who were . to follow in the next mask : this done, 
the Duke returned into his former place, in midst 
of the stage ; and the little ladies performed their 
dance, to the amazement of all the beholders, con- 
sidering the tenderness of their years, and the many 
intricate changes of the dance, which was so dis- 
posed that, which way soever the changes went, 
the little Duke was still found in the midst of these 
little dancers. 



ARABELLA STUART. 281 

"These slight skirmishers having done their 
devoir, in came the Princesses. 

"First the Queen; then the Lady EUzabeth's 
Grace; then the Lady Arhella; the Countesses 
of Arundel, Derby, EsseXy Dorset, and Montgo- 
mery; the Lady Haddington, Lady EUzabeth Grey, 
Lady Windsor, Lady Catherine Petre, Elizabeth 
Guilford, and Mary Wintour. By that time these 
had done, it was high time to go to bed, for it was 
within half an hour of the sun's, not setting, but 
rising. Howbeit, a further time was to be spent in 
viewing and scrambling at one of the most magni- 
ficent banquets that ever I have seen. 

" The ambassadors of Spain, of Venice, and the 
Low Countries, were present at this, and all the 
rest of these gloriotis sights; and, in truth, so they 
were, 

" The third, and last day, did not give place unto 
any of the former, either in stateUness of show or 
sumptuousness in performance. 

"First, we had the runners of the tilt; after- 
wards, in the evening, a gallant sea-fight; and, 
lastly, many rare and excellent fireworks, which 
were seen by almost half a million of people. 

" The Earl of Pembroke, at the tilt, brought in 
two caparisons of peach-coloured velvet, embroidered 
all over with fair oriental pearls; and yet the Lord 
Walden carried away the reputation of bravery for 
that day. 

" But, to speak generally of the Court, I must 



282 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

truly confess unto you, that in all my life I have 
not seen once so much riches in bravery as at this 
time. Embroidered suits were so common, as the 
richest lace which was to be gotten, seemed but 
a mean grace to the wearer ; and now, as the friar 
preached to the Herr Van Swartzenbourg — this is 
pastr 

Arabella, in the midst of all this pomp and feast 
and revelry, where she formed one of the most 
prominent persons in the state drama, although 
expected never to step out of the part allotted to 
her, but merely to remain at Court ' one of the Prin- 
cesses' to be made use of when a pageant was 
toward, and to have neither wish nor feeling beyond 
— ^must have thought of her stolen marriage with 
sad repinings : not only did no mask or ceremony 
accompany the solemnity at which she gave her 
hand to Seymour, but she dared not avow her 
union, .and trembled lest the least imprudence 
should betray her secret. She saw the wily eyes of 
James bent on her face, with jealous scrutiny, and 
she turned away, afraid to meet them. 

She would have hid her fears in retirement, 
and she was forced to witness gaieties foreign to 
her heart; perhaps she now sighed for her once 
quiet home at Hardwick, and wished 

" For even its sorrows back again." 

There is a sarcastic bitterness running through 
the following singular letter, which shows that 



ARABELLA STUART. 283 

unmerited severity had had its effect on the charac- 
ter of the too sensitive and outraged relative, who 
looked to James for support and indulgence, and 
who found only coldness and suspicion. 

Her mention of the mechanical music is curious, 
proving that exhibitions were not unknown at that 
period. 

LETTER FROM ARABELLA STUART TO THE EARL OF 
SHREWSBURY.* 

''Because I know not that y' Lordship hath 
forsaken one recreation that you have liked here- 
tofore, I presume to send you a few idle lines to 
read in your chair, after you have tired yourself 
either with affairs, or any sport that bringeth weari- 
ness; and, knowing you well advertised of all 
occurrents in serious manner, I make it my end 
only to make you merry, and shew my desire to 
please you even in playing the fool ; for no folly 
is greater, I trow, than to laugh when one smarteth; 
but that my aunt's divinity can tell you, S' Lawrence, 
deriding his tormenters, even upon the gridiron, 
bade them turn him on the other side, for that he 
lay on was sufficiently broiled, I should not know 
how to excuse myself from either insensibleness or 
contempt of injuries. I find, if one rob a house, 
and build a church with the money, the wronged 
party may go to pipe in an ivy leaf for redress ; for 
money so well bestowed must not be taken from 

• From Lodge's Illustrations, vol. iii. pp. 257, 8. Howard 
Papers, No. CIX. 



284 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

that holy work, though the right owner go a 
begging. Unto you it is given to understand 
parables, or to command the comment; but if 
you be of this opinion of the Scribes and Pharisees, 
I condemn your Lordship for an heretic, by the 
authority of Pope Joan ; for there is a text saith, 
you must not do evil that good may come thereof. 

" But now, from doctrines to miracles ; I assure 
you, within these few days, I saw a pair of vir- 
ginals make good music without the help of any 
hand but of one that did nothing but warm, not 
move, a glass some five or six feet from them. 
And, if I thought these great folks, invisibly and 
far oflF, work in matters to tune them as they please, 
I pray your Lordship forgive me, and I hope God 
will, to whose holy protection I humbly recommend 
your Lordship. 

" I humbly pray your Lordship to bestow two of , 

the next good parsonages that shall fall on me ; not 

that I mean to convert them to my own benefit, 

for, though I go rather for a good clerk, than a 

worldly-wise woman, I aspire to no degree of Pope 

Joan, but some good ends, whereof this bearer will 

tell y'' Lordship one. My boldness shews how 

honourably I believe of your disposing such livings. 

Your Lordship's niece, 

Arabella Stuart. 
. From Broad Street, 

June 17^ 1609. 

Ih the right hon^^' my very good uncle, the Earl 
of Shrewsbury!' 



ARABELLA STUART.- 285 

Arabella was watched with all the vigilance of 
hatred and suspicion ; and, alas ! it was not long 
before the real state of things was known, and 
James could not longer doubt that he had been 
treated with contumely by the imprudent lovers. 

The bride was hurried oflF to the safe keeping of 
Sir Thomas Parry, at Lambeth, and the bower of 
the lately happy bridegroom was prepared for him 
in the Tower. When Seymour entered that gloomy 
abode, he was complimented by a fellow captive, 
Melvin, a nonconformist minister, then confined 
there, with a distich, " the pretty quaintness of 
which," says Lodge, in his account, " may furnish 
an excuse for the momentary interruption of the 
narrative : — 

^ Communis tuum mihi causa est carceris ; Ara- 
BeUa tibi causa est ; araque sacra mihi.' 

" The cause of my imprisonment is the same as 
thine ; thy cause is Ara-bella (the beautiful altar) ; 
mine the sacred altar {Ara is altar)." 

It was probably at this precise period that Ara- 
bella addressed to the King the following petition, 
or letter, which has been preserved in the Harleian 
collection, together with some others of less mo- 
ment, relating to her marriage ; among which is 
a declaration to the Privy Council by Sir Edward 
Rodney, that it was solemnised in his presence, in 
her chamber, at Greenwich : 



286 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

" May itt please your most excellent Ma"*. 
" I doe most hartily lament my hard fortune, that 
I should oflTend your Ma**% especialhe in that 
whereby I have longe desired to meritt of yo' Ma**®, 
as appeared before yo' Ma**® was my Soveraigne ; 
and though yo' Ma**** neglect of me, my good liking 
of this Gent, that is my husband and my fortune, 
drewe me to a contracte before I acquainted yo' 
Ma***, I humbly beseech yo' Ma*** to consider how 
impossible itt was for me to ymagine itt could 
be offensive unto yo' Ma*** having fewe days before 
geven me your royall consent, to bestowe myselfe on 
anie subject of yo' Ma****, w*^ likewise y*' Ma*** had 
done long since. Besides never havinge ben either 
prohibited any, or spoken to for any, in this land 
by yo' Ma*** these 7 yeares that I have hved in yo' 
Ma**** house, I could not conceave that yo^ Ma*'* re- 
garded my marriage att all ; whereas if yo' Ma*** 
had vouchsafed to tell me yo' mynd and accept the 
free-will offering of my obedience, I would not have 
offended yo' Ma***, of whose gratious goodnes I 
presume so much that, if itt weare as convenient in 
a worldly respect as mallice may make itt seame, to 
separate us whom God hath joyned, yo' Ma*** would 
not doe eviQ that good might come thereof; nor 
make me, that have the honor to be so neare yo' 
Ma*** in bloud, the first presedent that ever was, 
though our Princes maie have left some as little 
imitable for so good and gratious a Kinge as yo' 
Ma*** as David's dealinge with Uriah. But I assure 



ARABELLA STUART. 287 

myself if itt please yo' Ma*'* in your own wisdome 
to consider throughlie of my cause, there will noe 
soUde reason appeare to debarre me of justice, and 
yo' princelie favor, w''^ I will endeavour to deserve 
whilst I breathe, and, never ceasinge to praye for 
yo' Ma*^** felicitie in aU thinges, remain 

Yo^ Ma^'\ &cr 

Seymour, when summoned before the Privy 
Council to answer for his crime, in his defence, 
speaks only the truth, and his candid admission of 
his original motives in seeking the alliance which 
had given so much offence, ought to have obtained 
for him more indulgence than he found; he ad- 
dressed the Privy Council in a humble manner, and 
stated, that " Being but a younger brother, and 
sensible of mine own good, unknown to the world, 
of mean estate, not bom to chalenge any thing by 
my birthright, and, therefore, my fortunes to be 
raised by naine own endeavour; and she a lady of 
great honour and virtue, and, as I thought, of great 
means, I did plainly and honestly endeavour law- 
fully to gain her in marriage/' 

Those who heard this prudent account of his mo- 
tives were not, probably, satisfied, and saw beneath 
this veil of cold calculation, sentiments of a much 
tenderer nature, which there can be no doubt really 
existed in his heart for his unfortunate and attached 
wife. He went on to say that he imagined Ara- 
bella was at liberty to marry any of his Majesty's 



288 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

subjects, whom it was her pleasure to select, "which 
belief," he continues, " was begotten in me upon 
a general report, after her ladyships being last called 
before your lordships^ that it might be." 

Mr. D'Israeli imagines that this phrase alludes to 
the lady having encouraged the addresses of another 
gentleman very lately, immediately before her ac- 
quaintance with him ; but it was probably not so, 
and might merely mean to refer to the proceedings 
in the case of Sir Walter Raleigh's supposed con- 
spiracy, and the King's recent gracious consent that 
a husband might be chosen by his royal dependant. 
The story of Seymour's courtship is told with great 
simpKcity, and by this it seems to have been en- 
tirely his own act, and not that the lady " was half 
the wooer;" he adds — 

" I boldly intruded myself into her ladyship's 
chamber in the Court, on Candlemas day last, at 
which time I imparted my desire to her, which 
was entertained, but with this caution on either 
part, that both of us resolved not to 'proceed to any 
final conclusion without his Majesty's most gracious 
favour first obtained. And this was our first meet- 
ing. After that we had a second meeting, at Brigg's 
house in Fleet Street, and then a third, at Mr. 
Baynton's; at both which we had the like conference 
and resolution as before." 

It would have been well for the lovers if they 
had kept this prudent resolve, and perhaps time 



ARABELLA STUART. 289 

and the intercession of others, might have induced 
James to give his consent to their marriage ; but 
it has been before explained, how the timidity of 
Arabella, and the little cause she saw for confidence, 
got the better of her caution ; and they most likely 
nursed themselves into a belief, that their fault, 
when irrevocable, would be forgiven : they were, 
however, fatally deceived; there was no mercy in 
the heart of the offended monarch for them. 

King James, however, not wilUng to appear too 
harsh, and as no one could discover treason in this 
marriage, although he continued to hold them cap- 
tive, permitted them more liberty than they, at 
first, enjoyed. The bride was allowed to walk in 
the gardens and grounds belonging to her jailer, 
Sir Thomas Parry, who, perhaps, was not sorry to 
remain in ignorance of all her proceedings, and did 
not make too strict enquiries as to her wanderings 
and musings. She was, however, removed from 
his keeping, and another gentleman was made her 
guardian, Sir James Crofts, who was to keep watch 
over her movements, while she remained in the 
house of Mr. Conyers at Highgate. 

Seymour, meantime, was almost in the position 
of a prisoner on parole, but it was scarcely to 
be expected that he would allow the opportunity 
to escape of affording comfort to his wife by 
letter, although to meet might be impossible. One 
of Arabella's letters to him is characteristic ; she, 
probably, having the means more in her power, 

VOL. I. u 



290 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

began the correspondence, and carried it on more 
boldly than her husband, who, no doubt, trembled 
for her safety, if their intercourse should be dis- 
covered. 



LADY ARABELLA TO MR. WILLIAM SEYMOUR. 

" Sir, 
" I am exceedingly sorry to hear you have not 
been well. I pray you let me know truly how you 
do, and what was the cause of it. I am not 
satisfied with the reason Smith gives : but, if it be 
a cold, I will impute it to some sympathy between 
us, having myself gotten a swollen cheek at the 
same time with a cold. For God's sake let not 
your grief of mind work upon your body : you may 
see by me what inconveniences it will bring one to : 
and no fortune, I assure you, daunts me so much as 
that weakness of body I find in myself : for si nous 
vivons Tage d'un veaUy as Marot says, we may, by 
God's grace, be happier than we look for, in being 
suffered to enjoy ourselves with his majesty's 
favour." 



The hvely humour of poor Arabella shows itself 
even under her afflictions, and the buoyancy of her 
spirits leads her to hope in spite of all chances. 
She quotes Marot, then a poet in high esteem, with 
whose verses Seymour was familiar as well as 



ARABELLA STUART. 291 

herself. These lines of his would have been appli- 
cable to their case : — 

" Incontenint que je te voy venue," &c. 

. ** When thou art near to me, it seems 

As if the sun along the sky, 
Though he awhile withheld his beams, 

Burst forth in glowing majesty ; 
But, like a storm that low'rs on high, 

Thy absence clouds the scene again. 
Alas ! that from so sweet a joy 

Should spring regret so full of pain ! " 

The bereaved wife continues her letter thus : 

" But, if we be not able to live to gain his 
majesty's favour, I, for my part, shaU think myself 
a pattern of misfortune in enjoying so great a 
blessing as you so little awhile. No separation 
but that deprives me of the comfort of you; for 
wheresoever you be, or in what state soever, it 
suflBceth me you are mine. Rachel wept and 
would not be comforted, because her children were 
no more : and that indeed is the remediless sorrow, 
and none else : and, therefore, God bless us from 
that, and I will hope well of the rest, though I see 
no apparent hope. But I am sure God's book 
mentioneth many of his children in as great distress, 
as have done well after, even in this world. 

" I do assure you nothing the state can do with 
me can trouble me so much as this news of your 
being ill doth, and you see when I am troubled 
I trouble you too with tedious kindness; for so 
I think you wiU account so long a letter, yourself 

xj 2 



292 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

not having written to me this good while so much 
as how you do. But, sweet sir, I speak not this to 
trouble you with writing but when you please. 
Be well, and I shall account myself happy in being 
Your faithful loving wife, 

" Arb. S."* 



The hopes that Arabella tried to inspire her 
husband with were not shared by her friends, as 
appears by a letter from Lady Jane Drummond, 
who had, it appears, undertaken to forward a 
petition to the king, which the Queen, with her 
accustomed kindness to Arabella, presented : but 
rough, coarse answers, in the usual style of this 
unmannerly prince, were aU the result. The Queen, 
in sending word of the ill success of her endea- 
vours to move her husband in favour of the ill- 
fated pair, desires Lady Jane to express her sorrow, 
and to remember her kindly, at the same time 
sending some little friendly token to show her 
sympathy. But she has no expectations for the 
future to give, and these ominous words conclude 
her letter : 

" Now, when your ladyship desires me to deal 
openly and freely with you, I protest I can say 
nothing on knowledge, for I never spoke to any of 
that purpose, but to the Queen : but the wisdom 

Had. MSS. 7003. 



ARABELLA STUART. 293 

of this state, with the example how sonie of your 
quality in the like case have been used, makes me 
fear that ye shall not j&nd so easy end to your 
troubles as ye expect or I wish." 

This was cold comfort, but still, while life 
remained, the captives looked forward to a brighter 
day ; and, in her lonely retreat, Arabella, hke her 
hapless prototype, Mary Stuart, busied herself with 
works which distracted her thoughts from her 
immediate sorrows, and were destined as oflFerings 
to her friends to keep herself in their minds. How 
many tears must have dropped upon her embroidery 
as she reflected that " her case," as she expresses 
it, " could be compared to no other she ever heard 
of, resembling no other!" — "This piece of my 
work," she says, writing with some gloves, — " I beg 
her majesty to accept in remembrance of the poor 
prisoner that wrought them, in hopes her royal 
hands will vouchsafe to wear them, which till I 
have the honour to kiss, I shall live in a great deal 
of sorrow." Again she sends a present to the 
Queen, and thanks Sir Andrew Sinclair for present- 
ing the work, and for " vouchsafing to descend to 
these petty offices, to take care even of these 
womanish toys, for her whose serious mind must 
invent some relaxation." 

Arabella seems to have had a particular talent 
for letter-writing, which, though in some instances 
it did not serve her, yet gained her admiration even 



294 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

from the harsh pedant who, praising her style, 
refused her requests. 

Dr. Montford thus speaks of one of her letters : 

" This letter was penned by her, as she can do 
right well : it was often read without offence, nay, 
it was even commended by his highness, with the 
applause of prince and council." 

The impunity with which the correspondence of 
the married lovers was carried on, probably made 
them incautious, and the whole affair was dis- 
covered. Then came the fury of that cruel relative 
who had treated all Arabella's entreaties with 
contempt. He instantly resolved to place her 
under stricter imprisonment, and, for that purpose, 
proposed sending her to Durham, to the Bishop. 

When she found that she was to be so far 
separated from her husband, Arabella's hopes gave 
way, and despair succeeded : she was seized with a 
sudden illness, the consequence of her anxiety of 
mind, if, indeed, the delirium of her grief had not 
betrayed her into an attempt on her own life — 
a surmise which might be borne out by many 
passages in her letters, in which she acknowledges 
the temptations she had at times had to commit so 
great a sin. 

King James, however, was inexorable, and 
ordered her journey to begin, notwithstanding 
the state in which she was ; but her illness 
increased in so alarming a manner, when they 



ARABELLA STUART. 295 

had not reached more than the first stage, that 
the physician who accompanied the Utter in 
which she was placed, did not dare to go on, 
and repaired to London to report her inabiUty to 
proceed.* 

* The following letter, addressed to a physician in attendance 
on Arabella Stuart during her sickness, is from Frances Bridges, 
Lady Chandos, and is pleasing, as showing the sympathy felt 
for her: — 

" Doctor Mounford, 

" I desire the widow's prayer, with my humble service, 
may, by you, be presented to the Lady Arabella, who I hope God 
will so fortify her mind, as she will take this cross with such 
patience as may be to His pleasing, who, as this day signifies, 
took upon him a great deal more for us, and when he seeth time, 
he will send comfort to the afflicted. I pray you, if you want for 
the honourable lady what is in this house, you will send for it ; 
for most willingly the master and mistress of the house would 
have her ladyship command it. 

" If the drink do like my lady, spare not to send. 

** The knight and my daughter remember their kind commen- 
dations unto yourself. So I commit you to God, and rest 

Your Friend, 

Frances Chandos. 
" To my friend, Dr, Mounford, at Barnet" 

The daughter alluded to in this letter, was a maid of honour to 
Queen Elizabeth, whose beauty attracted the admiration of Essex, 
and the consequent displeasure of the Queen fell on her ; it is 
even said that her majesty made her feel her anger on more than 
one occasion. When James came to the Crown, her fortune — for 
she had sixteen thousand pounds— allured one of the hungry 
Scotch followers of the Court to offer her his addresses ; she 
accepted him, and became Lady Kennedy. It was not till some 
time afterwards that she discovered the truth of the old ballad, 
which asserts that :— 

" Scots never were true, nor ever will be, 
To Lord or Lady of fair England/' 

For 



296 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

This news was received with great harshness by 
James, who remarked, " It is enough to make any 
sound man sick, to be carried in a bed in that 
manner she is ; much more for her, whose impa- 
tient and unquiet spirit heapeth upon herseK far 
greater indisposition of body than otherwise she 
would have/' 

For the false knight had already a wife in Scotland. This start- 
ling intelligence caused a violent breach between them ; and, after- 
wards, although the former wife was dead, Elizabeth Bridges was 
driven to dispute, in the ecclesiastical court, the validity of her 
own marriage. By the expenses of law, and Sir John's conduct, 
she was reduced almost to poverty, and the circumstances of her 
death were such as to lead to the supposition that she had put an 
end to her existence. She died in 1617. 

There is a curious picture of this lady at Woburn, by Jerome 
Custodis, in which she appears with jewels in her hair, forming 
the monogram " H. W.," and a singular piece of jewelry on her 
right shoulder, representing a toad vert riding on a dragon. 

Of Queen Elizabeth's jealous severity to this unfortunate beauty, 
Walpole, quoting from Rowland White's letters, says :^ 

" The Queen hath of late used the fair Mrs, Bridges with words 
and blows of anger"* In a subsequent letter he says, <* The Earl 
(Essex) is again in love with \l\s fairest B,; it cannot choose but 
come to the Queen's ears, and then he is undone. The countess 
hefirs of it, or rather suspects it, and is greatly unquiet." 

In the old house of Sir Nicolas Carew, at Beddington, was 
extant, on a pane of glass, this kind of rebus, which Walpole 
seems to imply had reference to the fair Bridges, and her gallant 
admirer : " ICSXOQPU." 



* Miss Elizabeth Bridges, and Miss Russell, are mentioned as 
being in disgrace, and '< were put out of the coffee-chamber, lying 
three nights at Lady Stafford's, before they could return to their 
wonted waiting," for the offence of taking medicine^ and going 
through the private galleries to see the lords and gentlemen play 
at the ballon. 



ARABELLA STUART. 597 

No representations would induce him to revoke 
his sentence of her being taken to Durham; and he 
protested that, " if he were king, she should go 
on \" The physician meekly replied, that he enter- 
tained no doubt of her obedience. " Obedience is 
that required," replied the unfeeUng and deceitful 
monarch, " which being performed I will do more 
for her than she expected." 

This phrase he had probably learnt from Queen 
Elizabeth, who loved thus to raise mysterious hopes 
which she never meant to realize. It being found 
that Arabella's sickness was not feigned, as he, no 
doubt, believed, James was obhged to consent to 
her staying at Highgate a month longer before she 
should proceed to Durham. 

Prince Henry now seemed to have exerted him- 
self to obtain a respite for her, and, as she still con- 
tinued to suffer, the King was induced to extend 
the permission, and her friends began to be relieved 
of their anxiety, imagining that she would still 
remain within their reach : but, the second month 
expired, there was no symptom of a change in the 
King's resolution, and preparations were accord- 
ingly made to recommence her journey. Arabella 
seemed too much subdued to exhibit any of the 
violent despair which had brought on her illness, 
and submitted, with apparent resignation, to her 
fate; but the true cause of her calmness, was the 
knowledge she secretly possessed that measurse 
were being taken for her escape. 



298 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The day before her intended departure, she repre- 
sented to her female attendant, the "wife of a mi- 
nister," with all the eloquence lent her by affection, 
the misery of leaving the spot near which her hus- 
band hovered, without the possibility of bidding 
him an eternal farewell. She wrought so much 
upon the feelings of this person, that she at length 
consented to allow her to meet the expectant Sey- 
mour at an appointed spot, and agreed to await her 
return at a certain hour, when she would receive 
her, having taken every precaution to avoid any 
suspicion of her temporary absence. On the other 
hand, the servant who attended on Mr. Seymour, 
Thomas Barber, whom, it would seem, he had effec- 
tually deceived, — for it does not appear that he was 
at all aware of his master's real intention, — ^kept 
guard on his chamber, giving out, as an answer to 
all inquiries, the report that " he was newly betaken 
to his rest, being troubled with the tooth-ache.'' 
This he did, having assisted Sejmaour to disguise 
himself in a " peruque and beard of black hair, and 
a tawney cloth suit," believing that he would return, 
as he professed to intend, after having paid a visit 
to his wife. 

It was on the third of June, 1611, that the unfor- 
tunate Arabella set her life upon that cast, and lost 
all ! The circumstances of her escape cannot be 
better told than by the vmter who recounts it to 
Sir Ralph Winwood. 



ARABELLA STUART. 299 



MR. JOHN MORE TO SIR RALPH WINWOOD. 

" On Monday last, in the afternoon, my Lady 
Arabella, lying at Mr. Conyer s house, near High- 
gate, having induced^ her keepers and attendants 
into security by the fair show of conformity 
and willingness to go on her journey towards 
Durham, which the next day she must have done, 
and in the meantime disguising herself, by drawing 
a pair of great French-fashioned hose over her petti- 
coats, pulUng on a man's doublet, a manhke 
peruke, with long locks, over her hair, a black hat, 
black cloak, russet boots with red tops, and a 
rapier by her side, walked forth, between 3 & 4 
of the clock, with Markham. After they had gone 
a mile and a half to a sorry inn, where Crompton 
attended with horses, she grew very sick and faint, 
so as the ostler that held the stirrups said, that 
gentleman would hardly hold out to London ; yet, 
being set on a good gelding astride, in an unwonted 
fashion, the stirring of the horse brought blood 
enough into her face ; and so she rode on towards 
Blackwall, where arriving about 6 of the clock, 
finding there in a readiness two men, a gentlewo- 
man, and a chambermaid, with one boat full of Mr. 
Seymour's and her trunks, and another boat for 
their persons, they hasted from thence towards 
Woolwich. Being come so far, they bade the 
watermen row on to Gravesend ; there the water- 



300 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

men were desirous to land ; but for a double freight 
were contented to go to Leigh, and by that time 
the day appeared, and they discovered a ship at 
anchor a mile beyond them, which was the French 
bark that waited for them. Here the Lady would 
have lain at anchor, expecting Mr. Seymour, but, 
through the importunity of her followers, they 
forthwith hoisted sail seaward. In the meanwhile 
Mr. Seymour, with a peruke and beard of black 
hair, and in a tawny cloth suit, walked alone 
without suspicion from his lodging, out of the front 
west door of the Tower, following a cart that had 
brought him biUets. From thence he walked along 
by the Tower wharf, by the warders of the south 
gate, and so to the iron gate, where Rodney was 
ready with oars to receive him. When they came to 
Leigh, and found that the French ship was gone, 
the billows rising high, they hired a fisherman for 
20'" to set them aboard a certain ship that they saw 
imder sail. That ship they found not to be it they 
looked for ; so they made forward to the next under 
sail, which was a ship of Newcastle. This, with 
much ado, they hired for forty pounds to carry 
them to Calais, but whether the coUier did perform 
his bargain or no is not as yet here known. On 
Tuesday in the afternoon, my Lord Treasurer, 
being advertized that the Lady Arabella had made 
an escape, sent forthwith to the Lieutenant of the 
Tower, to set strait guard over Mr. Seymour ; but 
coming to the prisoner's lodgings, he found to his 



ARABELLA STUART. 301 

great amazement, that he was gone from thence 
one whole day before. 

" Now the King and the lords, being much dis- 
turbed with this unexpected accident, my Lord 
Treasurer sent orders to a pinnace that lay at the 
Downs, to put presently to sea, first to Calais road, 
and then to scour up the coast towards Dunkirk. 
This pinnace, spying the aforesaid bark which lay 
lingering for Mr. Seymour, made to her, which 
thereupon offered to fly toward Calais, and endured 
13 shot of the pinnace before she would strike. 
In their bark is the lady taken, with her followers, 
and brought back towards the Tower, not so sorry 
for her own restraint as she would be glad if Mr. 
Seymour might escape, whose welfare she pro- 
testeth to affect much more than her own." 

He did, in fact, arrive safely in Flanders, where 
he remained for many years a voluntary exile. 
More adds — 

" In this passionate hurry here was a proclama- 
tion first conceived in very bitter terms, but by my 
Lord Treasurer's moderation seasoned at the print 
as now here you find it. 

' DE PROCLAMATIONE TANGENTE DOMINAM ARBEL- 
LAM ET WILLIELMUM SEYMOR. A. D. 1611. 

' Whereas We are geven to understand that the 
Lady Arbella and William Seymore, second Sone 



302 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

to the Lord Beauchamp, being for divers great and 
haynous offences committed, the one to our Tower 
of London, and the other to a speciall guard, have 
found the means, by the wicked practises of divers 
lewd persons, as namely, Markham, Crompton, 
Rodney and others, to break prison and make 
escape on Monday the 3d of June, with an intent 
to transport themselves into forreyne parts. Wee doe 
hereby straightly charge and commaund all Persons 
whatsoever upon their allegiance and dutie, not 
onUe to forbeare to receave, harbor or assist them 
in their passage in anie way as they wOl answer 
it at their PariUes ; but upon the Uke charge 
and paine to use the best meanes they can for therre 
apprehension and keeping them in safe custody, 
which wee will take as an acceptable service. 
* Gevin at Greenwich, the fowerth daie of June, 

' Per ipsum Regem.' * 

" There are, Ukewise, three letters dispatched in 
haste, written by Sir Thomas Luke to the King 
and Q. Regent of France, and to the Archdukes, 
all written with harsher i?ik than now if they 
were to do (I presume) they should be, especially 
that to the Archdukes, which did seem to pre- 
suppose their course to tend that way; and all 
three describing the offence in black colours, and 
pressing their sending them back without delay. 
Indeed, the general beUef was, that they intended 

♦ Rymer's Foedera. 



ARABELLA STUART. 303 

to settle themselves in Brabant, and that under 
the favour of the Popish faction ; but now I rather 
think they wiU be most pitied by the Puritans, 
and that their course did wholly tend to France. 
And though for the former I have my in- 
corrigible imagination, yet for the latter many 
pregnant reasons do concur : — as that the ship that 
did attend them was French ; the place that Mr. 
Seymour made for was Calais ; the man that did 
make their perruques was a French clockmaker, 
who is fled with them; and in the ship is said 
to be found a French post, with letters for the 
Ambassador/' 

The following is from the Lord Treasurer Salis- 
bury to Mr. Trumbull, and shows the state of 
agitation into which the King was thrown on dis- 
covering the flight of the lovers; some passages 
he evidently dictated as the minister wrote, the 
involved sophistical style betraying his mind : — 

" The copy of this, inclosed to the Archduke, 
will fully acquaint you with the strange occasion 
of this sudden dispatch. It only remains for me 
to let you know, that his Majesty's pleasure is, 
you should presently demand audience of the 
Archduke, and, haying delivered the letter, to 
represent unto him how sensible his Majesty shall 
be of the proceedings that be used towards them 
in a matter of this nature, wherein friendship ought 



304 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

not to be guided by that which is only visible but 
by entering into judgment how far circumstances 
of persons and pretences may make things dan- 
gerous in consequence, tho' in other examples 
wanting some such considerations, that may be 
refused which ought now to be granted. 

" Upon which ground you shall do well to make 
this further instance : that the Archdukes will not 
suffer the world to conceive that their friendship 
with his Majesty is so weakly grounded, as not to 
demonstrate on such an occasion somewhat more 
than the ordinary rules of amity or treaty may 
directly tie them to. And there his Majesty doth 
now require of them that both the persons and 
their company, if they come within their domi- 
nions, may be stayed until upon advertisement of 
it they may further hear from his Majesty : though 
you may conclude that excepting the scorn and 
example of so great pride and animosity where his 
Majesty's only clemency hath bred his ovm offence, 
there is nothing in these persons relative to them- 
selves to hold them other than contemptible crea- 
tures, 

" This being the effect which his Majesty doth 
desire, the time admitting no particular relation 
to the fact, nor any long discourse, the rest must 
depend upon your own discretion to amplify and 
enforce the same as you shall see cause. 

" They had so good correspondency, and plotted 
their escape with such cunning and secresy as. 



ARABELLA STUART. 305 

though they were under several custodies, Mr. 
Seymour being in the Tower, but had the liberty 
of the prison, and the Lady Arabella committed 
to Sir James Crofts, who was to conduct her to 
Durham, yet they found means to escape much 
about one time, the lady putting herself into 
man's apparel, and the other disguising himself 
with a false hair and beard, and mean apparel. 

" They embarked themselves at Lee yesterday, 
about nine o'clock in the morning, so that if they 
make not the more haste than I think they can, 
and this messenger be not too slow, you shall 
have time enough to demand audience and know 
the Archduke's answer before they come to 
BrusseUs." 



What must have been the agony of mind of the 
unfortunate Arabella, when, all her fondest hopes 
defeated, she was brought back to London, and 
the gloomy portals of the Tower unclosed to let 
her in — another victim whose doom was sealed ! 

He whom she adored a fugitive, whose fate she 
could not know, but the dreadful certainty that 
they were separated for ever too apparent to her 
mind. All in whom she had any interest — all to 
whom she was attached — reproached, suspected, 
and imprisoned for her sake. Her husband's 
grandfather — the infirm and almost superannuated 
Earl of Hertford — ^whose participation in their 
offence could not for an instant be believed, was 

VOL. I. X 



306 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

dragged from his retirement to be interrogated; 
and Mary, Comitess of Shrewsbmy, her amit, was 
seized and placed in the Tower in strict confine- 
ment, as an aider and abettor of her flight. Earl 
Gilbert was also ordered to keep himself a prisoner 
in his own house. 

A long examination immediately took place 
before the Privy Council, of those persons con- 
cerned in the " great and heinous offence" of a 
love-match without the consent of a tyrant. A 
great parade was made of the enormity of Ara- 
bella's crime, which proceeding, indeed, was ne- 
cessary to excuse the severity of her punishment, 
and give colour to the accusations which no one 
could understand. 

Both the aunt and niece seem to have conducted 
themselves on the occasion according to their 
respective character^, but agreeing in insisting on 
a public trial, and professing their readiness to 
answer their accusers in a proper place, but decUn- 
ing to do so privately. One or two authors, who 
could not have taken the trouble to read More's 
letter to Sir Ralph Winwood, have misrepresented 
Arabella, and attributed to her the words of her 
choleric aunt ; there is no difficulty in imderstand- 
ing the following passage, which has been> never- 
theless, misread : — 

"18th June 1611. 

" On Saturday last the Countess of Shrewsbury 



ARABELLA STUART. 807 

was lodged in the Tower, where she is like long 
to rest, as well as the Lady Arabella. The last- 
named Lady answered the Lords at her exami- 
nation with good judgment and discretion; but 
the other is said to be utterly without reason, 
crying out that all is hut tricks and gigga : that she 
will answer nothing in private : and if she have 
oflFended the law she will answer it in pubUc. 
She is said to have amassed a great sum of money 
to some ill use ; twenty thousand pounds are known 
to be in her cash, and that she made provision 
for more bills of exchange to her niece's use 
than she had knowledge of; and though the Lady 
Arabella hath not, as yet, been found inchnable 
to Popery, yet her aunt made account, belike, that 
being beyond the seas, in the hands of Jesuits 
and Priests, either the stroke of their arguments, 
or the pinch of poverty y might force her to the other 
side." 

It is evident, by this, that the innocence of 
Arabella of any political design was manifest, 
whatever the intriguing daughter of EUzabeth of 
Hardwick might have projected. Yet she found 
no more favour in the sight of her persecutor. 
Perhaps, James had formed some design of marry- 
ing her to forward his own interest, which project 
her clandestine union with Seymour frustrated : 
she seems to allude to something of the kind in a 
passage of a letter to the King. 

X 2 



308 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

"If the necessity of my state and fortune, to- 
gether with my weakness, have caused me to do 
something not pleasing to your Majesty, let it be all 
covered with the shadow of your royal benignity. 

" Touching the offence for which I aim now 
punished, I most humbly beseech your Majesty in 
your most princely wisdom and judgment to con- 
sider in what a iniserable state I had been if I 
had taken any other course than I did^ for my own 
conscience witnessing before God that I was then 
the wife of him that now I am I could never have 
matched with any other man'' 

At first, the imprisonment of Mary, Countess of 
Shrewsbury, was somewhat severe, as appears by 
the following letter from Sir Charles Cavendish to 
Henry Butler : — 

" Good Henry Butler, 

" I cannot blame you to be greatly grieved at 
this case, knowing how much she values you for 
your trust and love to her ; but my lord putteth me 
in hope that her abode there will not be long, and 
that shortly she shall have the liberty of friends and 
servants to come to her. She is appointed the 
Queen's lodgings, and hath three or four fair rooms 
to walk in. God send her well out of them, as 
I hope in God she shall. 

" Commend me to Mr. Wingfield, and be you 
both of good cheer, for I understand she had not 



ARABELLA STUART. 309 

gone thither if she had answered the lords, so for 
that contempt she suflfereth. 

Your very loving friend, 

Charles Cavendish. 
" JFelbeck, 19 June, 1611.'' 



Her brother's hope that she would not be long in 
the Tower was fallacious ; for the captivity of the 
Countess lasted two t/ears, although there was 
no sufficient ground of accusation found against 
her. This punishment, however, was the least that 
the mahgnant James could devise for her attach- 
ment to one who was an object of anger to him. 

Earl Gilbert seems also very sanguine; in his 
expectation of the speedy release of his wife, he 
says, in a letter to the same person : — 

" For my wife, as I wrote to you in the postscript 
of my second letter, so, I assure you, it is the worst 
of her estate. God grant her health and patience 
for a time, and then it will pass over, with God's 
help, as many greater things have done." 

Charles Cavendish adds : — 

" The King hath granted six of my lord's ser- 
vants to repair to her at all convenient time, and 
Mistress Anne to attend her continually there. 
Mr. Corners is in Fox's place, belike he hath not 
his health there. The six be, Mr. Hercy, Mr. Coke, 
Mr. Boult, Mr. Hamond, Mr. Nevill, Mr. Fox. 



310 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The lords that signed this warrant be my Lord 
Treasurer, my Lord Privy Seal, my Lord Cham- 
berlain, my Lord of Worcester, my Lord Fenton, 
my Lord Knowles. I hope this good beginning 
will have a speedy end, which God grant. 
"28/^^^^, 1611." 

Opinions respecting the guilt or innocence of 
Arabella, and the danger or otherwise to the Crown, 
were very various, and great contentions arose 
between the English and Scotch parties; the one 
averring that all fear was absurd of peril to the 
throne, from pretensions so remote as those of Ara- 
bella, and others holding the event up as a terror 
not inferior, in its threatened consequences, to the 
Gunpowder plot. Of course, there were not wanting 
persons who would indulge the King in his extrava- 
gant imaginings, and foster his suspicions, for their 
own ends, until the weak and unfeeling monarch, 
against his own conviction, became a prey to fan- 
cied evils, and looked upon himself as a rescued 
victim from a great conspiracy. The saddest re- 
flection is, that the Prince, hitherto a firm Mend of 
his cousin, is said to have beten influenced against 
her ; at least, this passage from More would seem 
to argue as much. 

" It is said to fill his Majesty with fearful imagina- 
tions, and, with him, the Prince, who cannot so easily 
be removed from any settled opinion!^ In this, Henry 
seems to have resembled his brother Charles. 



ARABELLA STUART. 311 

The letter-writer goes on to remark, " As for 
Mr. Seymour, we only hear that he went from 
Ostend to Bruges, and from thence sent a mes- 
senger along the coast to Gravelines, to hearken 
after the arrival of his lady. Which, methinks, doth 
not well dohere with my Lady Arabella's protesta- 
tion, that the intent of them both was absolutely 
for France, and for no other place/* 

Probably, in those days of superstition, the tre- 
mendous hurricane, which visited England imme- 
diately after the discovery of this fearful plot, was 
considered a sign of the wrath of Heaven. Trees 
were torn up in and round London; houses in 
the country entirely destroyed, and all nature in 
confusion. 

The archduke did not enter into the alarmed 
feelings of King James, nor show that sympathy 
which he seemed to expect ; in fact, he evidently 
considered that there was nothing heinous in the 
matter ; and his cold answer to the terrified letter 
he received, gave great offence ; at the same time it 
made James ashamed of his vehemence against the 
unhappy pair, more particularly as one of them was 
now in his power. 

The Lord Treasurer thus writes on the subject to 
the minister at Brussels : — , 

" I have acquainted his Majesty veith your pro- 
ceedings in the business concerning Mr. Seymour, 
who was pleased, in perusing your letter, to take 



312 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

notice of the diligence and cautions which you have 
used therein, although the success hath not been 
answerable ; which he imputeth to the coldness of j 

those ministers who do lend but a sourde oreille to 
motions of this nature, and pretend a want of 
authority, when, in truth, it is merely a want of 
will and correspondency. For the letter from the 
Archduke to his Majesty, it was only an answer of 
formalUy, declaring, in the general, his willingness 
to give his Majesty such satisfaction, in case those 
persons should come within his territories, -as should 
agree vdth the treaty and with their mutual amity. 
*' Whereupon, seeing Mr. Seymour is come 
thither, and that the Archduke, both by his Ma- 
jesty's letter and your relation, doth sufficiently 
understand what is now expected on his part, his 
Majesty's pleasure is you forbear to urge and press 
this matter any further y but leave them to do 
therein what themselves shall best advise; this 
being a thing of no such consequence^ as that his 
Majesty will make any extraordinary contestation 

for itr 

Nevertheless, his bitterness towards Arabella 
breaks out again in reproaches and threats to her 
husband. 

" In the meantime, so long as he doth remain 
a proselyte of that country; casting away that duty 
and obedience with which he was bom, and be- 
taking himself to protection in those parts, sit tibi 



ARABELLA STUART. 313 

tanquam etAnicm, forbearing both his conversation 
and his confidence ; saving only, according to the 
instructions in my last, to carry always a watchful 
eye to observe what entertainment he doth find there; 
how he is respected; to whom he most applies himself ^ 
who especially resort unto him^ and what course 
he purposeth to take, either for his stay or his 
remove. 

" And as you can have means to let him know 
this much, that he will deceive himself if ever he 
thinks to find favour, whilst he liveth under any of 
the territories of Spain, Rome, or of the Archdukes; 
in all which places, all that are ill-affected only find 
residence and favour." 

With selfish harshness Salisbury adds, — 

'* Whereas it seems he had some speech with you 
of his purpose to write to me his excuse : you may 
let him understand this much, that howsoever myself, 
with other of the lords, were contented heretofore, 
in his first falling y to extenuate his fact and to 
appeal in his favour ; upon a confidence that, seeing 
his error y the honesty and truth of his heart, en- 
couraged by the goodness of his Majesty towards him, 
would not suffer him to fall again; yet, having 
since deluded our expectation, and therein violated 
his own faith, so far as to abuse his Majesty's 
lenity, I am now neither willing to remember that I 
have done him any courtesies, nor mean to enter- 
tain any acknowledgment of them. And, therefore, 



314 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

if he hath any purpose to write hither to make his 
peace by the mediation of his friends, let him 
address his letters, either to the lords in general, 
or else to those in whom he hath a particular 
interest; for you may assure him, that for mine 
own part, I am resolved not to receive any letters 
from him that are directed to me in particular." 

Salisbury seems to have worked himself into as 
great a state of anger and terror as his master, as if 
he really thought the crime imputed to Seymour of 
so black a die. 

Could any of them suppose that either he, or 
Arabella, would be content to linger on in the 
miserable state in which they were placed^ sub- 
mitting to cruelty and injustice so undeserved, and 
satisfied to be shut up in prison, and separated, 
with more and more rigour, from each other, being, 
as they were, man and wife? Nevertheless, all 
those who looked on seemed overawed by the dis- 
pleasure of the Court, and saw nothing natural, but 
something passing strange in their part being taken 
by the Archduke. 

More writes thus : — 

"The Archduke's ambassador hath carried him- 
self very strangely ever since his arrival. He hath 
had but one audience of his Majesty, and that was 
in private. He hath brought a letter from the 
Archduke, in favour of Mr. Seymour, im less stranye 



ARABELLA STUART. 315 

than the rest, that his Majesty would be pleased 
to pardon so small a fault as a clandestine marriage, 
and to svffer his wife and him to live together ^ 

This monstrous request seems to have excited the 
utmost surprise, and, probably, only determined 
King James to show still more severity to the ill- 
starred Arabella, who was now a prisoner in the 
Tower, without a friend ! 

She had clung so long to hope; she had in- 
dulged so many visions while Seymour was yet near 
her ! But they were violently parted : his fate was 
unknown to her : her enemies had triumphed. Ac- 
cusations, from which, although there was no foun- 
dation for them, she had no means of clearing 
herself, pressed frightfully upon her ; the past had 
been all uncertainty, the future was darkness, and 
the present utter despair. Her mind became con- 
fused with the magnitude of her afflictions ; her 
body was wasted and worn with unwonted exertion; 
her nerves destroyed by continued irritation. Like 
Tasso, in his dungeon, strange shapes and sights 
appalled her, and she saw some hideous phantom 
in every shadow that fell upon her prison floor. In 
vain she exerted all the powers that nature and 
education had given her ; in vain she tried to busy 
herself as before in her confinement ; in vain she 
wrote petitions in the most moving language, poured 
out her sorrows in numbers — all was without effect. 
The blow had been struck, and fate was as 



316 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

remorseless as the King, who refused her offerings 
and contemned her prayers. 

" Good, my lord," she exclaims, in a letter to 
Viscount Fenton, " consider the fault cannot be 
uncommitted ; neither can any more be required of 
any earthly creature but confession and most humble 
submission." 

There yet remain fragments of her papers found 
scattered in her prison ; some written and crossed 
out, some begun and never ended ; they are inco- 
herent ravings or pathetic complaints. One letter is 
thus concluded: 

" Help will come too late ; and be assured that 
neither physician nor other, but whom I think 
good, shall come about me while I live, till I have 
his Majesty's favour, without which I desire not to 
live. And, if you remember of old, I dare die — so 
I be not guilty of my own death, and oppress others 
with my ruin too, if there be no other way^ as Grod 
forbid, to whom I commit you. 

" I could not be so unchristian as to be the 
cause of my own death. Consider what the world 
wotdd conceive if I should be violently enforced to 
do it." 

And she thus writes in the agony of her spirit : 

" In all humihty the most wretched and unfor- 
tunate creature that ever lived prostrates itself at 
the feet of the most merciful king that ever was, de- 
siring nothing but mercy and favour, not being 



ARABELLA STUART. 317 

more afflicted for anything than for the loss of that 
which hath been this long time the only comfort it 
had in the world ; and which, if it were to do again, 
I would not adventure the loss of for any other 
worldly comfort ; mercy it is I desire, and that for 
God's sake." 

That mercy came not, and was looked for in vain, 
till hope deferred made her heart sick even to 
death : 

" Where London's towre its turrets show 

So stately by the Thames^s side, 
Faire Arabella, child of woe ! 

For many a day had sat and sigh'd : 
And as she heard the waves arise, 

And as she heard the bleake windes roare, 
As fast did heave her heartfelt sighes, 

And still so fast her teares did poure." 

She had been a prisoner a considerable time when 
it was suddenly reported to the Court that she had 
professed her willingness to make disclosures of 
great importance, and once more she was brought 
before the Coimcil ; but it was only to show that 
severity and unmerited harshness had done its work 
upon their victim. Strange and incoherent accusa- 
tions fell from her lips ; but, desirous as her hearers 
were to find matter of punishment in her words, 
although she named, as guilty of treason, many 
suspected persons, and amongst them the still 
imprisoned Countess of Shrewsbury, her aimt,* 

* In a letter from Mr. John Chamberlain to Sir Ralph Win- 
wood, occurs this passage : — 

*<29 Jan. 



318 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

nothing could be made of her statements; and her 
judges were convinced, at length, that they were 
listening to the ravings of insanity. Awe-struck at 
this catastrophe, neither the King nor his ministers 
dared prosecute enquiry further; but at once closed 
the book in which the crimes of Arabella and Sey- 
mour were written. 

" A greater Power than they could contradict 
Had thwarted their intents." 

The Pazza per Amore was taken back to her 
cell ; humanity might have suggested her being de- 
livered over to her relations ; but, even in madness, 
she inspired jealousy in the heart of James, and he 
kept her still captive. 

The sudden and dreadful death of her friend and 
former supporter, Prince Henry, doubtless made a 
fearful impression on her mind, harassed and 
wounded as it already was. She must have felt, 
that in him her last stay was broken; and she had 
no intercessor of power to be moved by her prayers 
and sorrows. 



" 29 Jan. 1612. 

" The lady of Shrewsbury that hath been long in the Tower, 
and hath the liberty of the place, and sometimes to attend her 
lord in his sickness, is now of late restrained, and kept more 
close, upon somewhat discovered against her, as they say, by her 
niece, the Lady Arabella." 

In another letter, dated 10th March, the same year, the writer 
alludes thus mysteriously to Arabella's state, with but little 
sympathy, it would seem, for her sufferings : — 

** The Lady Arabella is mid to be distracted, which, if it be so, 
comes well to pass with somebody whom they say she hath nearly 
touched,'* 



ARABELLA STUART. 319 

The blow which reax^hed every heart in the 
nation, crushed hers as it descended. Perhaps she 
had still an advocate in the young and fair sister 
of the ill-starred Prince Henry, who, being most 
affectionately attached to her brother, would, of 
course, take a lively interest in all that had once 
awakened his sympathy ; for it seems that the gal- 
lant and amiable bridegroom, who had been chosen 
for her, attempted to move his obdurate father-in- 
law, in favour of some of her friends. The gossip- 
ing Mr. John Chamberlain, in a passage in one 
of his letters, tells us that — " The Prince Pala- 
tine, before his leaving England with his bride, 
made a suit to the King for the enlargement of 
Lord Grey. The King told him, ' he marvelled 
how he should become suitor for a man whom he 
neither knew nor ever saw.' '' 

James was too cunning not to perceive that the 
Prince was moved to his request by some person 
who did not appear, and when, in reply, he was 
informed by his son-in-law that he had been urged 
to the petition by his uncles, the Duke of Bouillon, 
and Prince Maurice, and Count Henry, by whom 
Lord Grey was known and esteemed, James jeer- 
ingly answered, *' Son, when I come into Germany, 
I will promise you not to importune you for any of 
your prisoners.** 

" Since that time," he continues, " the Lord 
Grey hath been restrained, and kept more straight^ 
for having had conference with one of the lady 
Arabella's women," 



320 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

This attendant was strictly examined, and was 
obliged to oifer, as an excuse for the conference of 
the prisoner and herself, a confession of certain pas- 
sages of love which she pretended had passed 
between them; but the King was not to be de- 
ceived, and this circumstance seemed to cause his 
doubts of her mistress to be revived. Perhaps he 
believed that she feigned madness, as Sir Walter 
Raleigh had done, to escape punishment, or excite 
compassion ; for the letter goes on to state, that she, 
Arabella, was " likewise restrained of late, ihov^h 
they say her brain continues still distracted^ and the 
Countess of Shrewsbury, more close than at any 
time before, and not without cause, as the voice goes. 
It is thought the Prince Palatine went not away 
so well satisfied, bein^ refused in divers suits and 



Mr. Disraeli,* in his interesting account of 
her, by a strange oversight, represents poor 
Arabella at this time as appearing in splendid 
robes, worth fifteen hundred pounds, at the Count 
Palatine's marriage. Alas ! the distracted prisoner 
in the Tower, for whom the bridegroom pleaded 
in vain, was not in a situation to " ruin herself" 
or others, by the extravagance of her apparel ! 

While the Court was glittering in gorgeous array, 
and thousands were cast away on a single enter- 
tainment ; while the journey alone of the Queen to 
the Bath cost the Eang, or rather the nation, thirty 

♦ See his paper entitled " Whether Allowable to Ruin One- 
self." — Curiosities of Literature, 



ARABELLA STUART. 321 

thousand poundsy Arabella was raving in her dismal 
cell, a maniac and unpitied ! 

The close of her wretched life was now drawing 
slowly on, but, that it might conclude with all the 
melancholy circumstances fitting to such a tragedy, 
her mind gave way, more and more, until she sunk 
into a state of helpless idiocy. 

The once fair, gay, admired, cherished, and, for 
a brief space, happy Arabella, lingered on in this 
living death several years, till — 

" Heaven gave that mercy man denied her here ;" 

and on the 27th of September, 1615, she 
expired. 

The King, who had denied her aU else, accorded 
her a tomb, as he had done the mother, to whom 
his filial aflFection had no better service to render ; 
and Arabella sleeps in Westminster Abbey, near 
her cousin Henry, the hope of England, who had 
beckoned her to the grave. 

The unfortunate husband, Seymour — though he 
afterwards maftied again — ^preserved inviolably his 
tender affection for his first love, and gave her 
name to his daughter, who was called Arabella 
Stuart, in memory of his attachment and misfor- 
tunes. The character given of him by Clarendon is 
that of a brave and excellent man, worthy of a 
happier lot. 

Richard Corbet, Bishop of Norwich, wrote the 
following lines, dedicated to the memory of 

VOL. I. Y 



322 . EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Arabella, which would be a fitting epitaph for 
her tomb : 

" How do I thank thee, Death, and bless thy power 
That I have passed the guard and scaped the Tower ! 
And now my pardon is my epitaph, 
And a small coffin my poor carcass hath ; 
For at thy charge both sonl and body were 
Enlarged at last, secured from hope and fear : 
That amongst Saints, — this amongst Kings, is laid ; 
And what my birth did claim, my death hath paid,"* 



PAEALLEL BETWEEN ARABELLA STUART AND 
CATHERINE GREY. 

The family of Hertford were peculiarly unfortu- 
nate, and the story of William Seymour and Ara- 
bella is SO similar to that of their immediate 
ancestors, Edward Sejnnour and Catherine Grey, 
that it would seem to have been but the same sad 
drama acted formerly as a warning to their 

• In consequence of the assertion of the elder D 'Israeli, in his 
<< Curiosities of Literature," that letters of Arabella and Seymour 
existed in MS. at Longleat, I visited that place, and, by permis- 
sion of the Marchioness of Bath, who, in the kindest manner, 
afforded me every assistance and facility, examined a great col- 
lection of the papers of the family, but entirely without success ; 
nor is there any record of such having been preserved there. 
Amongst other portraits of little value of the period of Elizabeth 
and James, occurs one of Arabella, badly painted, and far from 
handsome, about the age of thirty ; but it is impossible to form 
any judgment of her appearance from such a picture, as the finest 
face — for instance, that of Mary Stuart, which exists at Longleat 
likewise, and is curious for the costume — may be disfigured by a 
mean artist ; and there is here no master hand to do justice to 
poor Arabella, injured alike in this as in other ways. 



ARABELLA STUART AND CATHERINE GREY. 323 

descendants to avoid the snare into which a dan- 
gerous affection had led them. As is usual, however, 
in these cases, the warning was overlooked, and the 
tragedy renewed ; the same persecutions attended 
Catherine, — who had the misfortune to possess a 
remote claim to the crown, and whose sister had 
perished on a scaffold, — ^as those which overtook 
Arabella, and the same vengeance pursued the one 
Seymour as that which visited the other. 

After the immolation of the young, innocent, and 
amiable victim, Lady Jane, her sisters, Catherine 
and Mary, were permitted to remain in obscurity 
and neglect — the safest state in which they could 
exist. On the accession of Elizabeth, although her 
fears were chiefly directed against those of the 
Scottish descent, of whose claims she was most 
tenacious, yet she did not overlook the possibility 
of a party being formed in favour of the daughters 
of the house of Suffolk, who, from being English 
and Protestant, might find friends as powerful as 
those which upheld the rights of Mary Stuart. 

The Ladies Catherine and Mary Grey were then 
to be kept under a strict watch, in order to prevent 
their being made the tools of a party as their ill- 
fated elder sister had been. The early marriage of 
Catherine to the son of the Earl of Pembroke, 
which had taken place on the same fatal day as that 
of Lady Jane and Guildford Dudley, had been, as 
hastily as possible after the catastrophe, dissolved 
through the politic care of her father-in-law, who 
Y 2 



824 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

married the bridegroom afterwards to Sir Philip 
Sidney's charming sister. The Queen resolved that 
no other marriage should be contracted by the repu- 
diated lady, and, in the same manner as King James 
acted afterwards towards Arabella, kept her Uttle 
better than a state prisoner ; who, though considered 
allied to the Crown, was to remain content with 
that honour, and have no aspirations for the future. 

But there was a Hertford then, as afterwards, 
who was destined to thwart the royal plans; and 
the jealous and envious Queen, by whom marriage 
was at all times considered a crime against herself, 
learnt, with indignation, that the son of the Pro- 
tector Somerset, he to whom she had shown her- 
self a benefactress, whose honour and estates she 
restored, and on whom she had bestowed the titles 
of Baron Beauchamp and Earl of Hertford, — had 
dared to forget his allegiance to that beauty which 
she expected should eclipse all others, and had 
become the husband of her captive cousin. 

At first, as in the case of Arabella, the terrified 
pair were afraid to confess the extent of their mis- 
demeanor ; but the fact could not be concealed, and 
the vengeance of the tyrant awoke. All the fears 
of the Queen were roused ; for it was found that 
the imhappy young wife was about to become a 
mother, and visions of a long Une of rivals filled the 
uneasy mind of the daughter of Anne Boleyn. 

Catherine Grey was instantly arrested, and taken 
off prisoner to the Tower, and, as if to furnish a 



ARABELLA STUART AND CATHERINE GREY. 3*25 

precedent to King James, the legitimacy of the 
marriage was disputed. Hertford was commanded 
instantly to produce proofs of his union : so early a 
day was named, that he found it impossible to gather 
them so as to convince the special commissioners 
appointed by her Majesty, from whose decision 
there was to be no appeal. He was, at the time of 
the summons, in France, and, although he used 
every exertion to satisfy the demands urged on 
him, as was anticipated, he could not do so, 
and returned to England only to be seized and 
thrown into the same durance as his wife, though 
his enemies were careful that their imprisonment 
should not be shared. He was accused of seduc- 
tion, and reproach and contumely heaped on him 
and the partner of his fault. Their portion now 
was the harshest severity, and every means was 
taken to discover who had been their friends in 
their clandestine marriage. 

Elizabeth of Hardwick, whose restless spirit 
seems always to have led her into scenes of 
daring, from which, however, she generally con- 
trived to escape without danger to herself, fell at 
this time under the Queen's suspicion, as appears 
by the following extract from a warrant addressed, 
in the name of Queen Elizabeth, to Warner, Lieu- 
tenant of the Tower : 

" Our pleasure is, that ye shall, as by our com- 
mandment, examine the Lady Catherine very 
straightly, how many hath been privy to the love 



826 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

between her and the Lord of Hertford from the 
beginning; and let her certainly understand that 
she shall have no manner of favour except she 
will show the truth, not only what ladies or 
gentlewomen of this Court were thereto privy, but 
also what lords and gentlemen ; for it doth now 
appear that sundry personages have dealt herein, 
and when it shall appear more manifestly, it shall 
increase our indignation against her if she will 
forbear to utter it. We earnestly require you to 
use your diligence in this. Ye shall also send to 
Alderman Lodge, secretly, for St. Low, and shall 
put her in awe of divers matters confessed by the 
Lady Catherine; and so also deal with her that 
she may confess to you all her knowledge in the 
same matters. It is certain that there hath been 
great practices and purposes ; and since the death 
of the Lady Jane she hath been most privy. And 
as ye shall see occasion, so ye may keep St. Low 
two or three nights, more or less, and let her be 
returned to Lodge's or kept still with you, as ye 
shall think meet."* 

In that gloomy abode, the destined sojourn of 
misfortmie, where few could say they "slept in 
quiet ;" in that fatal building, — so feared by the 
pretty Prince of Whiles, who had reason to exclaim 
to his uncle Gloster, 

" I do not like the Tower of any place," 

— ^was poor Catherine Seymour delivered of a son, 

• Haynes's Burleigh State Papers. 



ARABELLA STUART AND CATHERINE GREY. 327 

pronounced by her enemies illegitimate, in spite of 
her assertions to the contrary. And, as one 
imworthy of the notice of the maiden Queen, she 
was kept a prisoner, condemned to expiate in tears 
the error which those around her pretended to 
beheve she had coramitted. 

But, watched as they were, the married pair 
found friends who compassionated their sujfferings, 
and, in spite of the vigilance of the Queen, they 
occasionally met. 

What was the fury of Elizabeth when she became 
aware that the Countess of Hertford was again about 
to add to the claimants of the crown of England ! 
— ^this second offence was not to be pardoned ; the 
lieutenant of the tower was instantly superseded, and 
stronger coercion than ever was the fate of Cathe- 
rine. Her husband was now prosecuted for his 
contempt of the royal authority, and the vindictive 
sovereign indulged herself in the deUght of stripping 
him of great part of the property which her hand 
had restored. A fine of fifteen thousand pounds 
was levied on his estate, and when he insisted on 
the legaUty of his marriage, and put on record the 
legitimacy of his children, he was again arrested 
and put in prison, where he was kept for nine years, 
without a shadow of justice. 

The unfortunate Catherine was doomed to see 
him no more. Elizabeth was as unmoved as James, 
to whom she taught the cruel example; and, in 
spite of the murmurs of many of her indignant 



828 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

subjects, who did not hesitate to demand under 
what plea she ventured to divide those whom God 
had joined, she continued to keep her in confine- 
ment, till death released her from her sufferings, in 
January, 1567, seven years after her ill-omened 
marriage. 

EUzabeth cast away no mercy on her unfortunate 
relative, save in one instance, when, probably, neces- 
sity, not compassion, induced her to remove the 
object of her anger from the influence of infection. 
The plague was then raging, and the inhabitants 
of the Tower were threatened with its ravages ; 
she, therefore, consented to allow the Lady Cathe- 
rine a chance of escaping from its deadly reach, 
although, of course, her death would have been 
news she would have more willingly heard than her 
well-being. The following is a proof of the tender 
care she had for her captive: 



WARRANT FOR THE REMOVAL OF THE LADY CATHE- 
RINE GREY FROM THE TOWER, TO THE CUSTODY OF 
HER UNCLE, THE LORD JOHN GREY.* 

" The Lords of the Council, to the Lard John 
Grey, 

" After our harty commendations to your good 
Lordships, although it may seem strange unto yow 

• Haynes's Burghley State Papers, Vol. L p. 404. 



ARABELLA STUART AND CATHERINE GREY. 329 

that without any former knowledg gyven you, the 
lady Catham, your Lordship's nessce, is appointed 
to be removed out of the Towre, to your howse ; 
yet we dout not but ye will thynk the cause 
reasonable, when ye shall understand it to be thus : 
The Queue's Majesty having consideration that the 
Towre of London is envyroned with infection of the 
Plage, for the danger that might ensue to your 
nece ther, hath been pleased of hir compassion, to 
grant that she shuld be removed from thence, as 
uppon much humble suyte hir Majesty hath granted 
the Uke to the Erie of Hartford ; and meaning not 
that she shuld be at any other liberty ; but to be 
free from that place of danger, thought best, in 
respect your Lordship is a nobleman, and of grave 
consideration, to regard any trust committed to yow 
by hir Majesty, to committ the custody of the said 
lady to yow, hii* onely uncle and next coosyn. 
And thus hir Majesty willed us to shew yow the 
occasion of her sending to yow, and hath com- 
manded us also to wryte furder imto your Lordship, 
that hir pleasure is, the said Lady shall remayn 
with yow and your Wiflfe, as in custody ; not to 
depart from yow until hir Majesty's pleasure shall 
be furder knowen, nether to have any conference 
with any person being not of your Howshold, 
without knowledg of yowr Lords^ or yowr Wiff. 
Which hir Majesty meaneth she should imderstand 
of yowr Lordship, and observe, as some part of 
hir punishment; and therin hir Majesty meaneth 



830 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

herin to trye hir disposition how she will obey 
that which she shall have in commandement. And 
suerly of our owne parts, for that we wish she 
should not long lack Hir Majesty's favor, but re- 
cover it by all good meanes; we hartely pray yowr 
Lordship to have regard, that she use hir self there 
in yowr Houss with no other demeanor, than as 
though she were in the Towre, untill she may 
atteyne more favor of hir Majesty ; for we must 
lett yow know that which is trew, hir Majesty hath 
at this present ment no more by this Liberty, but 
that she be out of the Towre from danger of the 
Plage. And so we pray yowr Lordship let hir 
playnly understand."* 

• Perhaps it was on this occasion the Queen gave her cousin 
the robe mentioned in the following paper: — 

" ORIGINAL ORDER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH, IN HER OWN HAND, 
IN POSSESSION OF MR. JOSEPH INGRAM, UNENDRAPER, IN CHEAP- 
SIDE. (The Paper is signed P. C.) 

" that our trusty and well-beloved servants John Roy- 

nor and Ralphe Hoope yeomen of our guardarobe of roobes hath 
delivered by our commandment oute of thir custody and charge 
at sundry times all such parcel of stuff as by us gevon to sundry 
p'sons &c. 

" Gevon to the lady Katheryn Grey, oone open gowne of black 
vellat layon on with 3 passamayne lases, faced with unshorne vellat 
and edged with a fringe, lyned throughout with black sarcenet 

** Gevon to the Lady Cobham oone loose gowne of black satin 
rased along and with a guard of black vellat styched, byas cutt 
and ravelid and edged with a fringe lined with sarcenet and fus- 
tian, and oone round kirtle of blak wrought vellat edged with a 
fringe and lyned with sarcenet, and also one petycoate of crimson 
vellat with a styched garde lined with cotton and fustian. 

" Gevon to Lady Carew one French kirtle of purple wrougt 
vellat with a satin ground, lined with taphata. 



MARY GREY. 831 

It remained now that the tyranny of the Queen 
should exhibit itself on another of the unlucky race, 
who had the misfortune to claim kiadred with her 

" Taken by the said John Roynor and R. Hoope oone night 
gown, past our wearing, of black vellat welted with a midhank 
welte of Tellat styched with silk furred with callaber and edged 
with luzerne. 

" Gevon to Catherin Carey a gown of russet satin welted 
downeright with blak yellat with ruffe of russet taphata round, 
all about. 

" Gevon to Dorothy Brodebelteone open gown of russet wrought 
vellat, the ground satin with brode welts, whiped over with a 
sattin wrethe edged with a fringe and lined with sarcenet and 
faced with pinked taphata, and oone petycoat of vellat stryped 
with gold the skirts lyned with purple sarcenet. 

" Gevon to Eliz. Sands oone open gown of printed satin garded 
with vellat and lyned with taphata, and oone Spanish gown of 
unshome vellat ruffed with taphata set with buttons and lowpes 
lyned with taphata. 

" Gevon to Eliz. Sloo oone gowne of blaci pinked vellat bor- 
dered about with three swelling welts cutt and raved, lyned with 
taphata and edged with a Mnge. 

*< Gevon to a Tartarian woman one loose gown of blak taphata 
welted byas with blak vellat on either side of the welt a purled 
lase of silk lyned with taphata ; oone French kyrtle of russet 
satin lyned with russet taphata : oone loose gown of blak taphata 
with a brode garde of vellat layed on with whyped lase and 
Brussels work lase lyned with blak taphata, and one French 
kyrtle of black satin welted with vellat and lyned with taphata. 

" Delivered to Katheryn Asheteley by her to be employed in 
panying of cushions, oone French gowne of purple vellat lyned 
with purple taphata with a peire of wide sleeves to the same. 

" Taken by the said John Royner and R. H. one night gown 
past our wearing of black satin with two gards of vellat with a 
fringe lase layed upon the edge of the garde, furred with lybards 
and faced with luzerne. 

" All wh. stuff and every part and parcel thereof we do know- 
ledge to have been delyverd since the last of Jan. an* seccond" 
regni mihi, &c. &c. 

" Geven under our signett at our manor of Greenwich, 16th 
May the 3d yere of our reign 1560." — Gentleman* t Magazine^ 1764. 



332 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

on her father's side. Mary Grey, witness to all 
the sorrows of her sisters, living in a state of 
miserable restraint, forbidden to share in any of 
the pleasures or pomps of royalty, yet kept in state 
confinement as a royal personage, became weary of 
her irksome position, and, probably, reckless of 
giving oflfence, was imprudent enough to contract 
a marriage with a person in an inferior olass of 
hfe ; condescending to become the wife of the ser- 
geant-porter of the Queen — ^a circumstance which, 
at the time, is spoken of as." an unhappy chance 
and monstromy 

Fuller thus records the event with becoming 
contempt : — 

" Mary Grey, frighted with the infelicity of 
her two elder sisters, Jane and this Catherine, 
forgot her honor to remember her safety; and 
married one whom she could love, and none need 
fear, Martin Kays, of Kent, esquire ; who was a 
judge at court (but only at doubtful casts at dice, 
being sergeant-porter) ; and died without issue, 
the 28 of April, 1578."- — Worthies in Leicester- 
shire. 

Mary vainly imagined that the obscurity of 
her husband would protect her; but she forgot 
that the Queen dreaded the heirs who might 
spring from herself; and she expiated her impru- 
dence by imprisonment for the remainder of her 
life ! Her husband's fate, beyond his being also 



MAEY GREY. 333 

incarcerated, is left in doubt ; but mention is made 
of her by Sir Thomas Gresham, the great merchant, 
in a letter to Lord Burghley, dated April, 1572, 
complaining that she had been kept in his house 
nearly three years, and entreating his lordship to 
make interest that she may be removed from his 
custody. 



MARY SIDNEY, 
COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 



" The gentlest shepherdess that lived that day, 
And most resemblmg both in shape and spirit 
Her brother dear." — Spenser. 



The chain that has connected each of the cha- 
racters whose history has been sketched in these 
pages, has yet a link added to them in the name of 
' Sidney's sister/ — she who is familiar to every one 
through Jonson's famous epitaph — ^for the two first 
wives of the man she married, were Catherine 
Grey and Anne Talbot, daughter of George, Earl 
of Shrewsbury, and her son was united to the 
grand-daughter of Bess of Hardwick and the 
Earl. 

Mary Sidney was the daughter of parents emi- 
nent for their private worth, patterns of domestic 
virtue, and distinguished for their example. Sir 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 335 

William Sidney, knight, her grandfather, was cham- 
berlain and steward of the household to Henry VIII., 
and, both for valour and prudence, was remarkable 
in his tune ; gaining laurels at Flodden field, and 
being always highly honoured by his sovereign. 
Henry, his son, was brought up with, and was the 
chosen friend of, young Edward VI., who was 
snatched away too soon for the nation's hopes : he 
married Mary, eldest daughter of John Dudley, 
Duke of Northumberland, one of the victims of am- 
bition so frequently offered up in those days on that 
fatal altar. The brothers of this amiable woman 
were the Earls of Warwick and Leicester, and her 
sister-in-law, that innocent martyr. Lady Jane Grey. 

The children of this niarriage were the illustrious 
hero and favourite of his age. Sir Philip Sidney, 
and she whom his afiection, added to her own 
deserts, rendered little less famous, Mary, the wife 
of the Earl of Pembroke. 

Her marriage was arranged by her uncle, the 
Earl of Leicester, her mother's brother, and the 
gratitude and deUght of her father on the proposal 
being made to him is almost comic in its humiKty. 
He appears to have held in infinite reverence and 
awe the illustrious race with whom his benign stars 
had allied him, although, their turbulence, ambi- 
tion, and misfortunes considered, it would have 
been happier and safer, one might imagine, to 
avoid than to court their dangerous eminence. But 
Leicester was in his power at that time little less 



336 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

than a king, and though they had seen the fate of 
innocent young women allied to greatness in the 
murdered Jane, and her imprisoned sisters, yet the 
letters of the apparently simple-nainded Sir Henry 
Sidney, show that he can scarcely contain himself 
for joy when he sees the coronet of Pembroke ght- 
tering above his daughter's head. This is part of 
his letter to his brother-in-law, whom he addresses 
with the deepest veneration : — 

" Your Lordshyppys later wrytten Letter I 
receved, the same day I dyd the first, together 
with one from my Lord of Pembrooke to your Lord- 
shyp; by both whych I fynd, to my exceedyng 
great comfort, the lykleod of a maryage betwyne 
his Lordshyp and my Doghter, which great honor 
to me, my mean lynnage and kyn, I attrybute to 
my match in your noble House, for whych I 
acknoleg myself bound to honor and sarve the 
same, to the uttermost of my pouer ; yea, so joy- 
fully have I at hart, that my dere Chyldys so happy 
an advancement as thys ys, as, in troth, I would bide 
a year in close pryson, rather than yt shuldbreake. 
But alas ! my derest Lord, myne abylytie answereth 
not my harty desyer. I am poore ; myne estate, 
as well in lyvelod and moveable, is not unknown to 
your Lordshjrp, whych wantyth much to make me 
able to equall that, whych I know my Lord of Pem- 
brook may have. Twoo thousand /, I confes have 
bequeathed her, whych your Lordshyp knowyth 



\ 







! M;J'-it, 7^ ;.-rrj.rd Hviul<:\r j -M4 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 337 

I myght better spare her when I wear dead, than 
one thousand lyvyng ; and, in troth, my Lord, I 
have yt not, but borrough I must and so I wyll : 
And if your Lordshyp wyll get me leave, that I 
may feede my eyes wyth that joyfull syght of thear 
couplyng, I wyll gyve her a cup worth fyve hun- 
dryth /. Good, my Lord, bear wyth my poverty, 
for if I had it, lyttell would I regard any sum of 
money, but wyllyngly would gyve it, protestyng 
before the Almyghty Grod, that if he, and all the 
powers on earth, would geve me my choyse of a 
husband for her, I would choose the Earl of 
Pembrooke. 

'' Dundalk, 4^ Feb, 1576." 

As it was Leicester's pleasure that the marriage 
should take place, it was not likely, knowing as he 
did the circumstances of his brother-in-law, that 
he would allow it to fall to the ground for the want 
of a dower for the bride. He accordingly increased 
the father's gratitude by presenting his daughter 
with a sum of money equal to the expectations of 
the bridegroom's family, and, no further obstacle 
existing, Mary Sidney was married to Henry, Lord 
Herbert, son of the Earl of Pembroke. 

It appears that the greatest care had been taken 
by the mother of Mary Sidney with her children's 
education, and the result was her ample reward, 
both as regarded her celebrated son and her ami- 
able and accomplished daughter, who excelled in 

VOL. I.' z 



338 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

beauty, grace, and worth — a fact which must have 
contributed in no small degree to comfort the heart 
of her mother, rendered pecuharly sensitive by the 
misfortunes of her family. 

The brother and sister were as inseparable in 
their studies as imited in their minds, and throughout 
their lives appeared to be undivided in affection for 
each other, and for Uterature. Both were cele- 
brated by all the poets of their time, whom they 
caressed and encouraged; and the great work which 
estabhshed the fame of the one conferred equal 
lustre on the other. The Countess of Pembroke's 
Arcadia has handed down the names of Mary and 
Philip together to admiring posterity. 

Of her Spenser thus enthusiastically speaks, in 
his CoKn Clout : 

" Urania, sister unto Astrophel, 
In whose brave mind, as in a golden coflfer, 
All heavenly gifts and riches locked are, 
More rich than pearls of Ind, or gold of Ophir, 
And in her sex more wonderftil and rare." 

And Thomas Churchyard, taking up the strain, 
exclaims : 

" Pembroke, a pearl that orient is of kind, 
A Sidney right, shall not in silence sit ; 
A gem more worth than all the gold of Ind, 
For she enjoys the wise Minerva's wit, 
And sets to school our poets everywhere 
That do presume the laurel crown to wear ; 
The Muses nine and eke the Graces three 
In Pembroke's books and verses you shall see." 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 339 

One of the chief works of the countess was a 
version which she gave of the Psahns in English, — 
a task then peculiarly popular, and first undertaken 
more, perhaps, from admiration of the poetical 
beauties of the sacred pieces than from a religious 
feeling of the excellence — ^by the celebrated poet, 
Clement Marot; who had, by their introduction, 
caused a complete revolution in taste in his own 
country, and had, it may be inadvertently, supplied 
the enemies of the Catholic Church with a means 
of spreading their opinions. 

The version of Clement was, naturally, very much 
read in England long after the awakened terrors of 
the Court of France had banished his Psalms from 
every drawing-room, and silenced them on every 
lute. Imprisoned and punished, their once cherished 
author had leisure to muse on the changes and 
chances of a popular poet's life, and, at the same 
time, to laimch forth into sarcasm against his late 
adorers, who had entered so fully into his prayer 
that, all love-songs forgotten, these sacred melodies 
should occupy the thoughts of every lady in the 
land : 

'< Quand n'aurons plus de cours ne lieu 
Les chansons de ce petit Dieu 
A qui les peintres font des aisles. 
O Yous, dames et demoiselles, 
Que Dieu fait pour estre son temple 
Et faites sous mauvais exemple 
Retentir et chambres et sales 
De chansons mondaines ou sales." 

z 2 



340 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

At length there shall no haunt be found 
Where idle lays may more resound, 
Such as his little godship brings, 
Whom silly painters deck with wings. 
Oh gentle dames ! — the Temple made 
Where God would have his worship paid, 
No more shall your example teach 
In bow'rs and halls, by music's speech, 
Those songs that may to evil move 
Or raise vain thoughts of worldly love. 

The ladies, in France, excited by their poet, had, 
as is usual with that volatile race, when a new 
fashion is produced, abandoned all that they had loved 
before, and " Cupid, prince of gods and men," 
was treated with scorn and silence, while every 
palace rang with lays from 

" The harp the monarch minstrel swept." 

At last, it was found that the poet had betrayed 
them all into heresy ; the lutes were dashed aside 
in dismay ; the voices were hushed throughout the 
kingdom ; the witching rhymes were left to Hugue- 
nots and rebels ; and to Clement went forth the 
word— 

" Prenez-le ! — ^11 a mang^ du lard !" * 

Perhaps the Protestant feeling, more than their 
merit, made the version of the Psalms by Lady 
Pembroke, occasionally assisted by her brother, 
popular : there is certainly more that claims atten- 
tion and admiration in her original compositions, 

♦ This line occurs in a satirical poem of Marot's, which he com- 
posed inridicule of his former patroness, Diane de Poitiers. 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 341 

in some of which, as in those of Sir Philip Sidney, 
there is originality and considerable beauty. 

That the "Arcadia" deserved all the praise bestowed 
on it so lavishly by all the contemporaries of its 
author, can scarcely be thought at the present day. 
It is not the antiquity of its language — although far 
more difficult than that of Shakspeare — that causes 
that much talked-of prose poem to be so dull and 
dry in the perusal ; but it is the want of interest 
in the plot and characters, the total absence of 
nature and natural situations. It is true that it 
possesses, in its weary length, some beautiful pas- 
sages, although, taken in general, these are adapted 
from classical poets ; but they do not reward the 
reader for wading through the interminable dia- 
logues between imaginary knights, damsels, shep- 
herds, and princesses, who never, in any of their 
stories, awaken a momentary interest for their 
sorrows or successes. 

Southey, in some lately-published letters, says, 
that "the prose of Sir Philip Sidney is full of 
poetry, and there are some fine passages amongst 
his poems." It appears to me necessary to make 
extracts from both — ^to be read apart — ^in order to 
feel their beauty, that, when separated from the 
dulness which surrounds them, their real worth 
may be appreciated ; but to read the " Arcadia " as 
a whole and not be wearied beyond the power 
of admiration, is nearly impossible. I have never 
seen Mrs. Stanley's modernization of this celebrated 



342 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

work, alluded to by Dr. Southey ; but, of course, it 
could gain nothing by a modem hand profaning its 
secrets, and covering the roughness of its original 
gold with a coat of varnish. 

Sir Philip himself says, " It is not rhyming and 
versing that maketh poetry;" but yet few more 
than himself ran into the unprofitable fashion of 
word sorting in his poems ; some of which have not, 
as Southey justly remarks, '' a redeeming line, 
thought, or expression." Yet Sir Philip could 
lecture well on poetry, and the vices of his time 
which injured it, defining it justly as being " the 
considering each word not only, as a man may say 
by his forcible quality, but his best measured 
quantity;"* and he could also be severe on one 
whose compositions have kept their youth for more 
than two centuries, and are still, as they will ever 
be, imrivalled, not only for the musical beauty and 
grace of the poetry, but for every quality requisite 
to touch the heart. He could see faults in the 
style of Shakspeare's popular dramas, without dis- 
cerning the true poetry, which was the heau ideal 
he was labouring tq describe. One can scarcely be 
sui'prised, on reading the "Arcadia," that its author 
did not feel the genius of the great master, immortal 
through all time ; but thus it was with almost all 
the poets and dramatists of the day, whom it has 
been the labour of some to endeavour to place in 

* Coleridge has the same idea more clearly expressed. See his 
"Table Talk." 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 343 

the same rank with Shakspeare, to whose Ught their 
gUmmer is as a glow-wonn to the moon. 

Sir Phihp Sidney's sonnets — a style of writing 
altogether too cramped for English verse, a bor- 
rowed form, belonging to . the Itahan language, 
which it suits — ^have, nevertheless, merit ; «and some 
of these — the least encumbered with conceits — may 
be compared with those attributed to Shakspeare ; 
as, for instance, the following : — 

" Stella ! think not that I by verse seek fame, 

Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee ? 
ITiine eyes my pride, thy lips mine history : 

If thou praise not, all other praise is shame. 

Not so ambitious am T, as to frame 

A nest for my young praise in laurel tree : 
In truth I swear, I wish not there should be 

Graved on my epitaph a Poet's name : 

Ne, if I would, I could just title make, 
That any laud to me thereof should grow ; 

Without my plumes from others wings I take : 
For nothing from my wit, or will, doth flow. 

Since all my words thy beauty doth indite, 

And love doth hold my hand, and makes me write." 

That Petrarch was the poet's model in this com- 
position is very plain; but whether Shakspeare 
suggested this which follows, by his speech of 
Cleopatra, cannot be so readily decided; perhaps 
Nature was the mistress of both. 



CleopatVi 

" Where thinkest thou he is now ? — stands he, or sits he, 
Or does he walk, or is he on his horse — 



344 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

He's speaking now, 
Or murmuring, * Where's my serpent of old Nile?' — 
For so he calls me. 

What ! was he sad or merry ? " 

Shaksfeare. 



SONNET OF SIR PHIUP SIDNEY. 

" Be your words made, good sir, of Indian ware, 
That you allow me them by so small rate ? 
Or do you courted Spartans imitate ? 

Or do you mean my tender ears to spare. 

That to my questions you so total are ? 
When I demand of Phoenix-Stella's state, 
You say, forsooth, you left her well of late : 
Oh God ! think you, that satisfies my care ? 

1 would know whether she do sit or walk — 
How cloth 'd, how waited on ? Sigh'd she, or smiled? 

Whereof? With whom ? how often did she talk ? 
With what pastime, time's journey she beguiled? 

If her lips deign'd to sweeten my poor name ? 

Say all, and all well said, still say the same." 



The subject of Anthony and Cleopatra was a 
favourite one at the period, and the Countess of 
Pembroke did not neglect it. Often, doubtless, did 
the brother and sister, seated in the bowers of 
Wilton, impart to each other their mutual com- 
positions, and the theme, now pastoral now heroic, 
inspired them both. Sidney's partial eye rested 
with delight on the page where his sister had traced 
the struggles of the enamoured Roman, while her 
tears were flowing for the sorrows of Philoclea. 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 345 

She might delight to dwell on the moving tender- 
ness of passages like these, then so much esteemed, 
but now rather suggestive of a smile, though they 
are not without a certain grace : — 

"He hears thee not, simple Philoclea! he hears 
thee not, or, if he did, some hearts grow harder the 
more they find their advantage. O ye deaf Heavens ! 
I would either his injury could blot out mine affec- 
tion, or my affection could forget his injury ! — ^with 
that she gave a pitiful hut sweet shriek^ &c. 

It may even be that she, whom her brother 
addresses as " most dear, and most worthy to be 
most dear," herself added speeches and scenes of 
a like nature, which were afterwards read with 
weeping eyes by all the ladies of the sentimental 
Court, Queen Elizabeth included, who could feel 
for fictitious woes. 

The male and female poet seem occasionally to 
have changed characters ; for some of the soliloquies 
in the countess's poem of " Antonius " are worthy 
of a masculine pen, and equal to anything her 
brother ever wrote. 

PASSAGES FROM THE " ANTONIUS '* OP MARY, CJOUNTESS OF 
PEMBROKE. 
Opening : — 

" Since crueU Heaven's against me obstinate, 
Since all mishappes of the round engine doo 
Conspire my harme : since men, since powers divine, 
Aire, earth and Sea are all injurious : 
And that my Queene herself in whom I liv'd 



346 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The Idoll of my harte, doth me pursue ; 

It's meete I dye. For her have I forgone 

My Country, Caesar unto war provok'd, 

(For just revenge of Sister's wrongs, my wife, 

Who mov'de my Queene (ay me !) to jealousie) 

For love of her, in her allurements caught, 

Abandon'd life, I honour have despisde, 

Disdain'd my Mends, and of the statelye Rome 

Despoilde the Empire of her best attire, 

Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd 

A slave become unto her feeble face. 

O cruell, traitres ! woman most unkinde ! 

Thou dost, forsworne, my love and life betraie ; 

And giv'st me up to ragefuU enemie, 

Which soone (O foole !) will plague thy perjurye." 

ANTONY REPROACHES HIMSELF FOR THE RECOLLECTION OF 
CLEOPATRA. 

" Then willing to besiege 
The great Phraates, head of Media, 
Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault. 
Thy engins fit (mishap !; not thither brought. 
So long thy love with such things nourished 
Reframes, reformes itself and stealingly 
Retakes his force and re-becomes more great. 
For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the words, 
Sweetnes, allurements, amorous delights, 
Entred again thy soule, and day and night. 
In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee : 
Not dreaming but of her, repenting still 
That thou for warre hadtt such a goddea left. 
Thou car'st no more for Parth, nor Parthian bow, 
Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes. 
For ditches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds : 
Thy only care is sight of Nilus' streames. 
Sight of that face whose gilefuU semblant doth 
( Wand'ring in thee) infest thy tainted hart. 
Her absence thee berothes : each hower, each hower 
Of staie, to the impatient seemes an age. 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 347 

Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough, 

If soon enough the bristled fields thou see 

Of fruitfull iEgipt, another stranger fioud 

Thy Queene'sfaire eyes (another Pharos) lights. 

Returned loe, dishonoured, despisde, 

In wanton love a woman thee misleades 

Sunke in foule sinke : meanwhile respecting nought 

Thy wife Octavia and her tender babes, 

Of whome the long contempt against thee whets 

The sword of Caesar now thy lord become. 

Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes 
Reverenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leave. 
Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke 
Of conquering Caesar, who enwalles thee round 
Cag'd in thy hold, scarse maister of thy selfe, 
Latemaister of so many nations. 

Yet, yet, which is of griefe, extreamest griefe, 
Which is yet of mischeife highest mischeife, 
It's Cleopatra, alas ! alas, it's she. 
It's she augments the torment of thy paine, 
Betraies thy love, (thy life, alas !) betraies, 
Csesar to please whose grace she seekes to gaine : 
With thought her crowne to save and fortune make 
Onely thy foe which common ought have beene. 

If her I alwaies lov'd, and the first flame 

Of her heart-killing love shall bum me last ; 

Justly complain I she disloyall is. 

Nor constant is, even as I constant am. 
To comfort my mishap, despising me 
No more, then when the heavens favour'd me. 

But ah by nature women wav'ring are. 

Each moment changing and rechanging mindes. 

Unwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie 

Ever to finde in beautie's companie." 

The foDowing really beautiful and poetical 
account of Cleopatra's charms, though not very 



348 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

descriptive of an Egyptian, was, probably, not 
lost upon the fair and learned European Queen, 
who, no doubt, saw clearly that it was intended for 
her portrait, as it was meant she should. 

DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA. 

" Nought lives so faire. Nature by such a worke 
Her selfe, should seeme, in workmanship hath part. 
She is all heav'nly : never any man 
But seeing her was ravbh'd with her sight. 
The allabaster covering of her face, 
The corall coullor her two lips engraines, 
Her beamy eies, two Sunnes of this our world, 
Of her faire haire the^n^ and flaming golden 
Her brave straight stature, and her winning partes 
Are nothing else but fiers, fetters, dartes. 
Yet this is nothing ; th' enchaunting skilles 
Of her celestiall Sp'rite, her training speach, 
Her grace, her majesty and forcing voice. 
Whether she it with fingers speach consorte, ' 

Or hearing sceptred kings' embassadors 
Answere to each in hir owne language make,'* 

This passionate burst of Cleopatra's is full of 
feeling, and cannot be read without admiration. 

CLEOPATRA DECLARES HER CONSTANCY IN ANTONY'S DISTRESS. 

" A frend in most distresse should most assist. 
If that when x\ntonie, great and glorious, 
His legions led to drinke Euphrates' streames. 
So many kings in train redoubting him ; 
In triumph rais'd as high as highest heav'n ; 
Lord-like disposing as him pleased best, 
The wealth of Greece, the wealth of Asia ; 
In that faire fortune had I him exchaung'd 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 349 

For Csesar, then, men would have counted me 
Faithles, unconstant, light ; but now the storme, 
And blustring tempest driving on his face, 
Readie to drowne— alas ! what would they say ? 
What would himself in Pluto's mansion say? 
If I, whome alwaies more than life he lov'd, 
If I, who am his heart, who was his hope. 
Leave him, forsake him, (and perhaps in vaine) 
Weakly to please who him hath overthrowne? 
Not light, uuconstant, faithlesse should I be, 
Rut vile, forsworne, of treach'rous cruelty." 

There are in the following Knes passages of much 
beauty, and an evidence of learning displayed 
appropriately. The consternation of the gods of 
Egypt at the coming events which threatened them, 
is grandly pourtrayed, and the expression — 

" Our gods* dark faces overcast with woe !" 

is extremely solemn ; indeed there is much in the 
whole poem of Antonius which suggests a resem- 
blance to some parts in Milton, and which that 
great poet, doubtless, did not disdain. 

Act II.— philostratus (the philosopher) speaks:— 

" What horrible furie, what cruell rage, 

O -^gipt so extremely thee torments ? 

Hast thou the gods so angred by thy fault ? 

Hast thou against them some such crime conceiv'd, 

That their engrained hand lift up in threats 

They should desire in thy heart bloude to bathe ? 

And that their burning wrath which noght can quench 

Should pittiles on us still lighten downe 
We are not hewn out of the monstrous masse 
Of giantes, those which Heaven's wrack conspir'd : 



850 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Ixion's race, false prater of his loves : 

Nor yet of him who fEiined lightnings found : 

Nor cruell Tantalus, nor bloudy Atreus, 

Whose cursed banquet for Thyestes' plague 

Made the beholding sunne for horrour tume 

His backcy and backwarde from his course returne : 

And hast'ning his wing-footed horses race 

Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face : 

While sulleme night upon the wondring world 

For middaie's light her starrie mantle cast. 

• • ♦ • 

All knowing gods our wracks did us foretell 
By signes in earth, by signes in starry spheres, 
Which should have mouv*d us, had not Destinie 
With too strong hand warped our miserie. 
The Comets flaming through the scat'red clouds 
With fiery beames, most like ynbroaded haires ; 
The fearfull dragon whistling at the bankes : 
And holy Apis ceasles bellowing 
(As never erst) and shedding endles teares : 
Bloude raning down from heaven in unknown showers ; 
Ottr gods* dark faces overcast wit/twoe. 
And dead men's ghosts appearing in the night. 
Yea even this night while all the Cittie stood 
Opprest with terror, horror, servile feare, 
Deepe silence over all : the soimds were heard 
Of divers songs, and diverse instruments, 
Within the voide of aire : and howling noise, 
Such as madde Bacchus' priests in Bacchan feasts 
On Nisa make ; and (seem'd) the company. 
Our citie lost, went to the enemie. 
So we forsaken both of gods and men. 
So are we in the mercy of our foes : 
And we henceforth obedient must become 
To lawes of men who have us overthrown." 



The poem abounds with sentences of great power 
and thought, proving the twin-like similarity of 



COUNTESS OP PEMBROKE. 351 

mind between Mary Sidney and her brother ; as in 
the following lines : 

TRUE FRIENDSHIP. 

" Men in their friendsMp ever should be one 
And never ought with fickle fortune shake, 
Which still removes, nor will, nor knowes the way, 
Her rowling bowle in one sure state to stale." 

AMBITION. 

** Bloud and alliance nothing do prevaile 
To cool the thirst of hote ambitious brests." 

LOVE OF SWAY. 

" Sooner will men permit another should ' 

Love her they love, than weare the crowne they weare.** 

RESOLUTION. 

" To him that strives nought is impossible." • 

CLEOPATRA LIKENS THOSE WHO FORSAKE THEIR FRIENDS IN 
SORROW. 

'* Like to those birds wafted with wand'ring wings 
From foraine lands in spring-time here arrive : 
And live with us so long as Somers heate 
And their foode lasts, then seeke another soile." 

The residence of Mary Sidney was chiefly at her 
husband's seat of Wilton, in Wiltshire, where, 
it is generally thought, the greatest part of the 
"Arcadia " was written by her accomplished brother; 
or sent to her in loose sheets, as he himself men- 
tions in his dedication to her; and, after his 
lamented death, her great consolation and melan- 

• This is the idea adopted by the famous Jaques Coeur, trea- 
surer of Charles VII. of France, as his motto, and which was 
engraved so often in his house at Bourges : — '^ A coeurs vaillants 
rien impossible." 



352 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN 

choly pleasure was in collecting and arranging 
those scattered papers, correcting, and revising 
them in the manner which she knew he would 
have approved. 

One of the chambers at Wilton was adorned 
with pannels, on which were painted scenes from the 
" Arcadia ; " these, from time to time, were restored, 
and would be interesting to keep up at the present 
day. The originals were not well executed, and, 
probably, offered no beauty to the eye ; but, now 
that the restoration of the art of fresco painting 
occupies so much attention, and there are artists 
of ability to execute the work, it would be surely 
worth while, on such classic ground, to revive the 
scenes sung by Sidney, and give the poet's fancies 
a local habitation. 

A mistake occurs in Gough's edition of Camden's 
Britannia, noticed by Zouch, in which Houghton 
Conquest, in Bedfordshire, is named as the spot 
where the " Arcadia" was composed ; but this man- 
sion was not built by the Countess of Pembroke 
till her widowhood; consequently, long after the 
death of Sir Philip Sidney. 

There is, no doubt, that much of the " Arcadia " 
was composed at Wilton, and all of it collected 
there ; though it is probable that the groves of 
Penshurst heard the poet's numbers, and, from that 
charming dwelling many of his effusions were 
transmitted to his beloved sister. 

Daniel, the poet, and the great friend of the 



eOUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 353 

countess, thus alludes to her version of the Psalms 
being written at Wilton : — 

" By this, great lady, thou must then be known 
When Wilton lies low levelled in the ground ; 
And this is that which thou may'st call thy own, 
Which sacrilegious time cannot confound ; 
Here thou surviv'st thyself— here thou art found 
Of late succeeding ages fresh in fame, 
Where, in eternal brass, remains thy name!" 

She resided occasionally . at Ramsbury, in Wilt- 
shire, from whence she dates her Tragedy of 
" Antonius," 26th November, 1590, in the edition 
printed at London for William Ponsonby, 1595. 

But her " Discourse of Life and Death," trans- 
lated from the French of PhUip Momey, and 
printed by the same, at London, in 1600, is dated 
from Wilton, 18th May, 1590. 

A composition, somewhat in the style of her 
brother's pastorals, entitled " Yvy Church, con- 
taining the affectionate life and unfortunate death 
of Phillis and Amyntas : that in a pastoral, this in 
a funeral. Both in English hexameters, 1591," 
was dedicated to her by Abraham Fraunce ; but it 
would require infinite patience to read a Kne of it 
at the present day, however gratifying it might 
once have been to the fair poetess, who received it 
as a mark of homage to her genius. 

When the great affection which subsisted between 
Sir PhiUp Sidney and his sister is considered, her 
extreme grief for his- loss may well be imagined, 

VOL. I. A A 



354 BMIKJSNT £NOLiaH^a]tt£N. 

and many must have been the tears she shed over 
the token probably presented to her by his youog 
widow, according to the wish expressed in his will, 
that his " dear sister, the Countess of Pembroke,'* 
should have his " best jewel beset with diamonds." 
This last pledge was no doubt received with a 
feeling far different to that evinced by his capri- 
cious, royal mistress, who had no softer recollection 
to bestow on her devoted Astrophel than warning 
a new favourite not to "go abroad and get himself 
knocked on the head, like that thougldlem fellow^ 
Sidney," who, nevertheless, in his dying moments 
had bequeathed to her, '^ as a remembrance of his 
most loyal and bounden duty, one jewel worth one 
hundred pounds." 

From him, as from others of her courtiers, Ehza- 
beth was in the habit of accepting new year's 
gifts; and it is recorded that, in January, 1577, 
she honoured him by receiving, at Hampton Court, 
an offering of " a smocke of camerick, the sleeves 
and collar wrought with i/^<?-work, and edged with 
a small bone lace of gold and silver, with a silver 
ruff cut work, flourished with gold and silver, and 
set with spangills, containing four ounces." 

In 1580 his gift was " a cup of crystall covered 
with a cover." In a roll, illuminated by Petrucci 
Ubaldini, Sir Philip is depicted as presenting the 
Queen, at new year's tide, in 1581, with a " jewel 
of gold, being a whip garnished with small 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 355 

diamonds in four rows, and cords of small seed 
pearl." And, in 1582, he gave *' a jewel of gold 
like a castle garnished with small diamonds on the 
one side, being a pot to set flowers in." 

The Queen, in return for one of these costly 
presents, gave her knight twenty-two ounces of 
gilt plate. 

Perhaps one of EUzabeth's reasons for not pre- 
serving more tenderness for the memory of him 
whom she professed so much to admire, was, that 
he had not remained for ever a despairing suitor 
at her feet, " versing love " to her alone : but had 
married the charming daughter of Sir Francis 
Walsingham, of whom Ben Jonson sings : — 

*< I must believe some miracles still be 
When Sidney's name I bear, and face I see, 
For Cupid, who at first took vain delight 
In mere outforms, until he lost bis sight, 
Hath changed his soul, and made his object you ; 
When finding beauty met with such virtue, 
He hath not only gained himself his eyes. 
But, in your love, made all his servants wise." 

Still severer was she afterwards to the fair seducer 
of her favourites, when she discovered that her 
beloved Essex had dared to love and marry the 
widow of his dear friend, Sidney ! 

The Countess of Pembroke was the mother of 

three children, two sons and a daughter ; the latter 

died young, and the two former were distinguished 

patrons of learning,, although their characters did 

AA 2 



356 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

not rise beyond the ordinary level of men of rank 
of their time: indeed, of her second son, Philip, 
afterwards Earl of Montgomery, contemporary 
writers speak with contempt, as not possessing the 
chivalric quaUties of his uncle, but more resembling 
the monarch whose favour showered honours upon 
him, at the expense of his reputation. Osborn, 
who is very bitter in his strictures on the manners 
of the Court, alludes to a quarrel in which Philip 
Herbert submitted tamely to insult in a manner 
which brought much disgrace on his name. 

" Phihp Herbert, since Earl of Montgomery, a 
man caressed by King James for his handsome 
face, which kept him not long company, leaving 
little behind it so acceptable as to render him fit 
society for anybody but himself, and such books 
as posterity may find ordinarily dedicated to him, 
which might yet have prompted his understanding 
to a more candid proceeding than he used at 
Oxford, where he exercised greater passion against 
learning, that had, by teaching books to speak 
EngUsh, endeavoured to make him wise, than he 
did towards Ramsay, who, by switching him in the 
face at Croydon, rendered him ridiculous. It was 
at a horse race, where many, both Scotch and 
EngUsh, met. The latter of which did upon this 
accident draw together with a resolution to make 
it a national quarrel, so far as Mr. John Pinch- 
back^ though a married man, having but the 



COUNTESS OP PEMBROKE. 857 

perfect use of two fingers, rode about with his 
dagger in his hand, crying, ' Let us break our fast 
mth them here, and dine with the rest at London.' 
But Herbert, not offering to strike again, there was 
nothing spilt but the reputation of a gentleman ; 
in lieu of which, if I am not mistaken, the King 
made him a knight, a baron, a viscount, and an 
earl, in one day, as he well deserved, having for 
his sake, or rather out of fear, transgressed against 
all the gradations of honour ; for if he had not torn 
to rags that coat of arms, so often in my hearing 
bragged of, and so staunched the blood then ready 
to be spilt, not only that day, but all after, must 
have proved fatal to the Scots, so long as any had 
staid in England — the Royal Family excepted ; 
which, in respect to His Majesty, or their own 
safety, they must have spared, or the kingdom 
been left to the misery of seeing so much blood 
laid out as the trial of so many crabbed titles 
would have required; there being then, according 
to report, no less than fourteen, of which Parsons, 
the Jesuit, so impudent is this fraternity, makes 
the Infanta the first. (?)* 

" But they could not be these considerations that 
restrained Herbert, who wanted leisure no less than 
capacity to use them, though laid in his way by 
others. And, therefore, if this efleminacy produced 
good to the nation, (at that time doubted by many,) 

* This passage is very obscure. 



856 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

the honour is only due to God, whose miraculous 
power was not less manifested, (upon so high a 
provocation and great encouragement, as the whole 
field afforded Philip,) in raising so much flegm 
in a man nobly bom, as might master so great a 
ftny. * * 

" And such of his friends as blame his youth for 
doing nothing, take away all excuse could have 
been made for him, had he done too much, since all 
commonly arrive at the years of valour before they 
can attain to those of discretion. 

" This I can attest for the man, that he was intole- 
rable, choleric and offensive, and did not refrain, 
while he was chamberlain, to break many wiser 
heads than his own. Mr. May that translated 
Lucan, having felt the weight of his staff, which 
had not office, and the place being the Banqueting 
House, protected, I question whether he would 
not have struck again. * * * 

" I have been told the mother of Herbert tore her 
hair at the report of her son's dishonour, who, I 
am confident, upon a like opportunity, would have 
ransomed her own repute, if she had not redeemed 
her country's. She was that sister to Sir Philip 
Sidney to whom he addressed his ' Arcadia,' and 
of whom he had no other advantage than what he 
received from that partial benevolence of fortune in 
making him a man : whidi yet she did in some 
judgments, recompense in beauty. Her pen being 



GOUNTBSS OF PEKBROKS. 3S8 

nothing short of his, as I am ready to attest, as £ar 
as so inferior a reason may be taken, having seen 
incomparable letters of hers. But lest I should 
seem to trespass upon truth, which few do unsub- 
omed, as I protest I am, unless by her rhetoric, 
I shall leave the world her epitaph, in which the 
author doth manifest himself a poet in all things 
but untruth : 

' Underneath this sable hearse 
Lies the subject of all verse, 
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother, 
Death, ere thou killest such another 
Fair and good and learned as she, 
Time shall throw a dart at thee. 
Marble piles let no man raise 
To her name. For after days 
Some kind woman bom as she, 
Reading this, like Niobe, 
Shall turn statue, and become 
Both her mourner and her tomb.'* 

*' In the meantime the King was much trembled 
at the accident, not being able to ruminate upon the 
consequence it might have produced, without trem- 
bling. Nor could he refrain from letting fall sharp 
expressions against the insolency of the Scotch and 
folly of the English, whose blood he pretended to 
indulge most, both within and without him. But 

* T have given this oelebrated epitaph of Ben Jonson's as 
Osbom quotes it ; there are variations in several versions of it, 
and the fourth line is sometimes improved in this form :— 
<' Death, ere thou hast slain anodier." 



360 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. . 

this he soon retracted, carrying such an awful 
reverence to his own countrymen, as he durst 
not displease them, out of feai' to find himself 
deserted. It being past peradventure that he 
never looked upon the EngUsh as friends, the cause 
he rejoiced in nothing more than promoting excess, 
by which he hoped to ruin nobility and gentry. 
But however remote his affections were, he durst 
not but banish Ramsey the court. * * One thing 
was then remarkable at Croydon field, that none 
but Sir Edward Sackville, of the English, went on 
the Scots' side, and he out of love to the Lord 
Bruce (whom after he killed in a duel), which was 
so ill taken by his countrymen, as divers protested 
that if the fray had succeeded, he was the first 
likely to have fallen.'' 

This quarrel is alluded to by most contemporary 
letter-writers, and, generally, in a way little respect- 
ful to PhiUp Herbert. Sir John More, in a letter 
to Sir R. Winwood, thus names it as the topic of 
the day : — 

" On Sunday his Majesty took great pains in 
examining the matter of quarrel between the Earl 
of Montgomery and young Ramsey ; and the same 
night Ramsey was committed to the Tower, from 
whence it is thought he shall be sent out of the 
Idngdom. His Majesty carried the matter with 
great indifferency ; and hereupon also did the Prince 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 361 

take occasion to protest that he carried an indifferent 
affection to both the nations, and that howsoever 
his nearest servants now were Scots, so placed by 
his father y yet that when he should come to his 
own choice he is likely to serve himself as well of 
the English as of them. 
" March 17, 1611." 

He is once or twice mentioned as a quarrelsome 
person, apt to disagree with his companions; but 
more violent than valiant, on all occasions. Osbom 
is, however, mistaken in asserting that his for- 
bearance was the cause of his receiving titles from 
James so rapidly ; for he is named as an earl the 
year before, viz. March, 1610, by Sir John More, 
when he speaks of his having made one of " three 
or four great quarrels. 

His words are these : — 

" More of our Court gallants talk of taking the 
same course (namely, joining the French Ejng in 
a projected war) ; indeed it were fitter tl^ey had 
some place abroad to vent their superfluous valour 
than to brabble so much at, as they do here at 
home ; for in one week we had three or four great 
quarrels: the first twixt the Earls of Southamp- 
ton and Montgomery, that fell out at tennis, where 
the rackets flew about their ears ; but the matter 
wSs taken up and compounded by the King, withovi 
further bloodshed!' 



862 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

The Ramsey, hero of this tale, was endeared to 
the King hy his servioes in stabbing the Ead of 
Cowrie, and thus saving his master's hie, as he 
chose to assert, for which he was made Earl of 
Haddington. 

The marriage of his rival, Philip Herbert, seemed 
to excite considerable interest at the time, for 
every one has something to say on the subject. 
Thus Mr. Packer to Mr. Winwood, amongst other 
news, speaks of the Queen's mask on the occa- 
sion : — 

« * * * ]^y Lqj.^ Admiral prepareth, against 
March, to go with very great magnificence. All 
his gentlemen shall have black velvet cloaks, and 
what else I know not. * * 

" Now, sir, for women's news : we have here 
great preparations for the Queen's mask, wherein, 
besides her Majesty, will be eleven ladies: Bed- 
ford, Suflfolk, Sussm Vere, Lady Dorothy Rich, 
a daughter of my Lord Chamberlain's, Lady Wal- 
singham, Lady Bevill, and somd others, whidi I 
have forgotten, for haste; but the Lady of NortJi- 
umberland is excused by sickness. Lady Hertford 
by the measles, * * Lady Hatton would fain have 
had a part, but souoe unknown reason kept her 
out; whereupon she i« gone to her house, * *" 
where, it seems, she quarrelled, as was her wont, 
with her husband. 



COUNTESS OP PEMBROKE. 368 

Mr. Chamberlaine thus alludes to this fashionable 
marriage, in a letter to Mr. Winwood : 

" London, 18th Dec'. 1604. 

" Sir, — Here is no manner of novelty or altera- 
tion since my last ; and yet being to ke^ Christ- 
mas out of town, and even ready for my journey, 
I cannot forbear though I be like to send an empty 
letter. 

" The King came back from Royston on Satur- 
day, but, so far from being weary or satisfied with 
these sports, that presently after the hoUdays he 
makes reckoning to be there again, or, as some say, 
to go further towards Lincolnshire, to a place called 
Ancaster-heath, In the meantime here is great 
provision for Cockpit, to entertain him at home, 
and of masks and revells against the marriage of 
Sir Phihp Herbert and the Lady Susan Vere, which 
is to be celebrated on St. John's day. 

" The Queen hath likewise a great mask in hand 
against twelfth-tide, for which there was three thou- 
sand pound delivered a month ago. 

" Her brother, the Duke of Hoist, is still here, 
procuring a levy of men to carry into Hungary ; 
but methinks they would have little to do that 
would adventure themselves so far with a man able 
to do them no naore good. 

'' The tragedy of Gowry, with aU the action 
and actors, hath been twice represented by the 
King's players, with exceeding concourse of all 



364 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

sorts of people. But, whether the matter or 
manner be not well handled, or that it be thought 
unfit that Princes should be played on the stage, in 
their life time, I hear that some great councillors are 
much displeased with it, and so 'tis thought shall 
be forbidden." 



The following letter of Sir Dudley Carleton to 
Mr. Winwood, describes the festivities at the then 
favourite's marriage. 

" London, Jan. 1605. 

" Sir, — I had written unto you at this time, 
though I had not been invited by your letters I 
received by Captain Doyly. For in Mr. Chamber- 
lain's absence, I come in quarter, and have waited 
so diligently at Court this Christmas, that I have 
matter enough, if the report of Masks and Mum- 
mings can please you. 

" On St. John's Day we had the marriage of 
Sir Philip Herbert and the Lady Susan, performed 
at Whitehall, with all the honour could be done a 
great favourite The Court was great, and for that 
day put on the best bravery. The Prince and Duke 
of Hoist led the bride to church, the Queen fol- 
lowed her from thence. The King gave her ; and 
she in her tresses and trinkets, brided and bridled 
it so handsomely, and, indeed, became herself so 
much, that the King said, * If he were unmarried, 
he would not give her but keep her himself.' 

" The marriage dinner was kept in the great 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 365 

chamber, where the Prince and the Duke of Hoist, 
and the great lords and ladies accompanied the 
bride. The ambassador of Venice was the only 
bidden guest of strangers, and he had place above 
the Duke of Hoist, which the Duke took not well. 
At night there was a mask in the hall, which, for 
conceit and fashion, was suitable to the occasion. 
The actors were the Earl of Pembroke, the Lord 
Willoughby, Sir Samuel Hays, Sir Thomas Ger- 
main, Sir Robert Gary, Sir John Lee, Sir Richard 
Preston, and Sir Thomas Eager. There was no 
small loss that night of chains and jewels, and many 
great ladies were made shorter by the skirts. The 
presents of plate, and other things, given by the 
noblemen, were valued at 2500/. ; but that which 
made it a good marriage, was a gift of the King's of 
five hundred pounds land, for the bride's jointure. 

" * * No ceremony was omitted of Bridecakes, 
Points, Garters, and Gloves, which have been 
ever since the livery of the Court, and, at night, 
there was sewing into the sheet, casting off the 
bride's left hose, and many o^ka^x pretty sorceries. 

" New Year's day past without any solemnity, 
and the exorbitant gifts that were wont to be used 
at that time, are so far laid by, that the accustomed 
presents of the purse and gold was hard to be had 
without asking. 

" The next day the King plaid in the presence; 
and, as good or ill luck seldom comes alone, the 



366 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

bridegroom that threw for the King had the good 
fortune to win 1000/., which he had for his pains; 
the greatest part was lost by my lord of Cran- 
borne. 

" On Twelfth day we had the creation of Duke 
Charles, now Duke of York ; the interim was en- 
tertained with making Knights of the Bath, which 
was three days work. * * 

" At night we had the Queen's Mask in the 
Banqueting-House, or rather her Pageant. There 
was a great engine at the lower end of the room, 
which had motion, and in it were the images of 
sea-horses, with other terrible fishes, which were 
ridden by Moors ; the indecorum was, that there 
was all fish and no water. At the further end was 
a great shell in the form of a skaUop, wherein 
were four seats ; on the lowest sat the Queen with 
my lady Bedford, on the rest were placed the ladies 
Suffolk, Darby, Rich, Effingham, Ann Herbert, 
Susan Herbert, EUzabeth Howard, Walsingham, 
and Bevil. Their apparel was rich, but too light 
and courtesan-like, for such great ones. Instead of 
vizards, their faces and arms, up to the elbows, 
were painted black, which was disguise sufficient, 
for they were hard to be known; but it became 
them nothing so well as their red and white, and 
you cannot imagine a more ugly sight than a troop 
of lean-cheeked Moors. * * Don Taxis took out 
the Queen, and forgot not to kiss her hand, though 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 367 

there was danger it would have left a mark on 
her lips." 

Of the Earl of Pembroke, eldest son of the comi- 
tess, Miss Aikin, in her valuable work on the Court 
of James I., sums up the character in these words : 

" Pembroke, the nephew of Sir Philip Sidney, 
has received from the pen of Lord Clarendon, a 
splendid eulogium for wit, learning, affability, 
disinterestedness, and generosity, commendations 
however, which are balanced by the distinct ad- 
mission of his noble panegyrist, ' that he indulged 
to himself pleasures of all kinds, almost in all 
excesses.' His accomplishments, and, it is to be 
feared, his vices also, caused him to be regarded as 
a model by the young courtiers of his time : he 
plunged into a sea of prodigal expense, in which 
even his ample revenues were speedily swallowed 
up ; and, to retrieve his circumstances, he submitted 
to a marriage with one of the co-heiresses of 
Gilbert, Earl of Shrewsbury, whose personal and 
mental qualities conspired to render her large 
fortune a dear purchase to a husband. In his 
political capacity, this nobleman had, unquestion- 
ably, the merit of being unbribed by Spain; for 
we are told that, in discussing the conduct of that 
Court towards his own, he would sometimes * rouse, 
to the trepidation ' of King James. The monarch, 
however, esteemed him as a member of the Council; 



368 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

and he obtained the offices of governor of Ports- 
mouth, chancellor of the University of Oxford, and 
chamberlain of the household." 

Osbom tells an anecdote of the Earl of 
Pembroke, which does not speak well for his 
courtesy or superiority to the undignified prince, 
who condescended to vulgar practical jokes : 

"Wilham, Earl of Pembroke, had an antipathy 
to a frog; King James, with his usual schoolboy 
silliness, threw one into his neck ; in requital 
whereof, the earl caused a pig, to which the king 
had a disgust, to be placed in his bed-room. This 
happened at Wilton, under the earl's own roof, and 
affected his majesty the more for that reason, as a 
breach of hospitality." 

As the son, however, of her of whom the poet 
has made such honourable mention in his immortal 
epitaph, Pembroke will always be a striking cha- 
racter : in several letters from friends of Gilbert, 
Lord Shrewsbury, to him, he is assured that the 
countess, his daughter, conducts herself with great 
propriety, " whatever envious persona may say to the 
contrary ;" and, more than once, allusion is made 
to their domestic arrangements, which leave their 
conjugal fehcity rather doubtful : the daughter 
of the countess, Mary, was not very unlikely to 
make a bad wife. 



COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 869 

Philip, Earl of Montgomery, seemed more fortu- 
nate ; and his second wife, who outlived him, was 
that famous countess, Anne Clifford, of Cumber- 
land,* whose character and habits so much resemble 
those of Elizabeth of Hardwick. 

The accomplished and honoured lister of Sir 
Philip Sidney, lived to a very old age, and died 
at her house, in Alderagate Street^ on the 25th 
Sept. 1621, and was buried near her husband, 
— ^whom she survived twenty years, — ^in the cathe- 
dral church of Salisbury. 

• See her Life iu Vol. II. of tbis work, 



VOL. I. B B 



PENELOPE, LADY KICH. 



Essex, the accomplished and impetuous, generous 
and ill-judging favourite of the aged and still sus- 
ceptible Queen Ehzabeth, who struggled in vain 
against her fondness for her handsome and pre- 
suming subject, had a sister, too hke him in all 
respects : violent in her attachments, imprudent 
in her resentments, and unfortunate in all the most 
important actions of her life, Penelope was most 
affectionately attached to her brother, who warmly 
returned her tenderness as he did that of all his 
family. If it had rested with him, his beautiful 
sister would not, probably, have been sacrificed to 
expediency, and forced to become the wife of a man 
whom she detested ; her heart being, at the same 
time, given to another. 

" To her how fatal was the hour," 

when the young and imdistinguished Charles 
Blount, the penniless son of a noble house, first 



LADY RICH. 871 

made his appearance at the court of the virgin 
Queen ! Proud, modest and retiring, feehng 
himself unequal in fortune to any around him, yet 
sensibly alive to his dignity, and the honour of his 
ancient family, he would willingly have concealed 
himself in retirement; and, after completing his 
studies at Oxford and the Inner Temple, Would 
have been content to exist upon his httle patrimony, 
and never have trusted his frail bark on the uncer- 
tain sea of Court favour. But his friends judged 
otherwise ; and it was deemed expedient, by those 
who reckoned upon the discriminating observation 
of their royal mistress, that the handsome and 
accomplished young nobleman should be seen by 
her whose smile dispensed favours and rewards. 

Sir Charles Blount was first introduced to the 
Court at Whitehall, when he had but just attained 
the age of twenty : his stature was above the ordi- 
nary height, his countenance full of intelligence, and 
highly prepossessing; and he had scarcely taken his 
station amongst the crowd of courtiers, who waited 
near her Majesty, as she sat at dinner, than her eye 
was attracted towards him. The Queen instantly 
asked her carver who the new comer was, but could 
obtain no information respecting him : a whisper, 
of course, went round ; and the glance of the Queen 
was followed by those of the ladies in her suite, 
amongst whom, probably, was the fair sister of the 
then favoured Essex. 

B B 2 



372 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

It was not long before the royal desire was 
satisfied, and it was reported to her Majesty that 
the youth who had attracted her admiring attention, 
was the brother of William, Lord Mountjoy — one 
of the most prodigal and profuse noblemen of 
the day. 

Elizabeth's glance is generally known to have been 
one which no man could feel bent on him, without 
experiencing its power: she is said to have been 
near-sighted, and her gaze might, consequently, 
have been more earnest when she wished parti- 
cularly to observe an object. Its fascination, at 
any rate, was undeniable; and, as Charles Blount 
became conscious that her eagle eye was fixed upon 
his face, and when he found himself, in an instant, 
the object of general observation, his heart beat 
quick, and his face became suffused with blushes. 

The Queen, whose vanity was, no doubt, flattered, 
and who was always ready to secure a new adorer, 
was immediately interested ; and, calling him to 
her, gave him her hand to kiss, encouraging him 
with these gentle and condescending accents, to 
which no one possessed the power of imparting 
a greater charm : " I no sooner saw this gentle- 
man,'' said she to her lords, and the ladies who 
pressed forward to gaze at the new favourite, " than 
I recognised in him the marks of noble birth." 
To this she added expressions of interest for his 
fortunes, and regret for their depression; con- 



LADY RICH. 373 

eluding by demanding his name of himself, and 
saying, as she dismissed him, " Fail you not to 
come to Court, and I will bethink myself how to 
do you good/' 

In spite of this brilliant encouragement, his 
natural bashfulness still kept him in the back- 
ground, and his fondness for travel and a mihtary 
life, in which course he soon distinguished himself, 
withdrew him from the Court and its dangers for 
awhile ; but the Queen became jealous of his care- 
lessness of her notice, and took every occasion to 
draw him to her ; so much so, that Essex began to 
feel piqued at her marked preference, and looked 
upon him with little content. At length a circum- 
stance occurred which roused his resentment, and 
his anger broke forth as inconsiderately as was 
customary with him. 

At a jousting-match young Blount had carried 
off aU the glory of the day, and amongst his 
wannest admirers was the Queen herself, though 
Essex's fair sister might have felt his merit more 
deeply still. As a token of her approbation of his 
prowess, Elizabeth sent the fortunate knight a 
golden queen of chess, richly enamelled. Delighted 
and flattered at this mark of esteem — ^while every 
one was striving 

" To win her grace, whom aU commend — " 

Blount appeared the next day with the Queen's 
favour attached to his arm by a crimson ribbon, 



374 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

wearing it conspicuously with undisguised pride. 
The Eari of Essex, indignant at finding that an 
obscure and unknown individut^ dared to enter 
the lists against one who imagined hinaself all 
supreme, enquired, in an arrogant tone, what it 
meant, and for what given. Fulk GreviUe, of 
whom the enquiry was made, replied, that it was a 
mark of the Queen's sense of his merit. This was 
too much for the favourite, who cried out, in an 
insolent tone, intended for Blount to hear, " Then 
I perceive every fool must have a favour !" 

Of course, nothing could follow this a&ont but 
a challenge ; which was immediately despatched to 
Essex by the young knight, and, without loss of 
time, the indignant rivals met. The sword of 
Blount was successful, as his lance had been. 
Essex was wounded and disarmed. 

Meantime, the Queen had heard a rumour of 
what had passed, and, flattered as she was, the 
" divine Astrea "thought fit to interfere to prevent 
further harm. When she heard the cause of the 
duel, and listened to the impertinent words of 
Essex, she exclaimed, in her usual forcible language, 
" By God's death ! it was fit that some one or other 
should take the earl down and teach him better 
manners, otherwise there would be no rule with 
him." 

This quarrel was fatal to the peace of Sir 
Charles; for, though from it sprang a friendship 



LADY RICH. 375 

with his rival which continued to the end, yet 
it made him acquainted too nearly with her who 
was to be the bane of his future happiness. 
Thoughtless of consequences, the young man 
surrendered his heart, without resistance, to the 
fascinations of the equally enamoured sister of 
his friend, and promises of the tenderest nature 
passed between them. Neither awoke from the 
dangerous dream they had entertained, till violence 
tore them asunder. Penelope became the unwilUng 
bride of Lord Rich, and Sir Charles endeavoured to 
lose his regret in the fields of Bretagne. 

He was now Earl of Mountjoy, with an impo- 
verished estate and a lacerated heart : his fortunes, 
however, brightened, as they often do, when wealth 
and honours are of no avail to 

" Minister to a mind diseased." 

The fall of Essex was approaching: he was 
recalled from Ireland, and Mountjoy appointed 
in his stead : it was on this occasion — ^when the 
acute Bacon recommended the faults of Essex 
to be passed over without severe punishment — 
as his popularity rendered him dangerous, that 
he observed, evidently doubting the firmness of 
his mistress, that " if she meant not again to 
employ Essex, she could not make a better choice 
than Mountjoy.'* " How,'' cried she with violence, 
" Essex ! whensoever I send Essex back again to 



376 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

Ireland I will many you — claim it of me." Dis- 
sembling the ridicule which he could not but 
feel belonged to this burst of vanity, the minister 
gravely replied : " Well, madam, I vsdll release that 
contract, if his going be for the good of the state." 

When the imprudent favourite, not to call his 
conduct by a harsher term, was in custody of the 
Lord Keeper, his anxiety and violence brought on 
a fit of illness, which so alarmed his sisters, 
Northumberland and Rich, that they entreated 
to be allowed to go to his prison and nurse him. 
The Queen was moved, and sent him a " comfort- 
able " message and some broth, and even went so 
far as to say that, if it might be with her honour, 
she would visit him herself : nevertheless, she 
rejected the petitions of his sisters, though she 
treated Lady Rich with gracious consideration, 
and pretended to feel commiseration for her 
sorrows. 

Neither did she reject the splendid presents 
oflfered her by Penelope — but no result followed: 
she read her letters also without granting her 
prayers. 

The following somewhat incomprehensible and 
characteristic eflFusion, however, having got abroad. 
Lady Rich, who was suspected of having circulated 
it, was commanded to keep her house, in conse- 
quence : 



lady rich. 377 

"to the queen. 
"Early this morning did I hope to have had 
mine eyes blessed with your Majesty a beauty; but, 
seeing the smi depart into a cloud, and meeting 
with spirits that did presage, by the wheels of their 
chariot, some thunder in the air, I must complain 
and express my fears to the high majesty and divine 
oracle, from whence I received a doubtful answer ; 
unto whose power I must sacrifice again the tears 
and prayers of the afflicted, that must despair in 
time, if it be too soon to importune heaven when 
we feel the misery of hell ; or that words directed to 
the sacred wisdom shoidd be out of season delivered 
for my unfortunate brother, whom all men have 
liberty to defame, as if his offences were capital, 
and he so base, dejected a creature, that his life, 
his love, his service to your beauties and the state 
had deserved no absolution after so hard pimish- 
ment, or so much as to answer in your fair presence, 
who would vouchsafe more justice and favour than 
he can expect of partial judges, or those combined 
enemies that labour, on false grounds, to build his 
ruin, urging his faults as criminal to your divine 
honour ; thinking it a heaven to blaspheme heaven, 
whereas, by their own particular malice and counsel, 
they have practised to glut themselves in their own 
private revenge, not regarding your service and loss 
so much as their ambition, and to rise by his over- 
throw. And I have reason to apprehend that, if 



378 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

your fair hands do not check the courses of their 
unbridled hate, their last courses will be his last 
breath. * * * But, at least, if he may not return 
to the happiness of his former service, to live at the 
feet of his admired mistress ; yet he may set dovra 
to a private life without the imputation of infamy/* 

The letter continues to name the services of his 
family, and their misfortimes, and the Queen's 
beauty ; and concludes, 

"But let y' M^' divine power be no more 
eclipsed than your beauty, w*" hath shined through- 
out the world. 

"Penelope Rich." 



Alas ! the remainder of the career of this fair and 
enthusiastic creature, destined to a higher lot, is 

" Disgrace and loss of fame, 
And sorrow and sin and shame;" 

and, moreover, " death to the gallant knight" whose 
" erring passions," with her own, brought all this 
misery upon them both. 

Penelope abandoned her husband for her lover ; 
and at the time when Anne of Denmark's masks 
and revels were at their height, one of the re- 
proaches against that volatile and ill-advised Queen 
was, that she received at Court, and acted with, the 



LADY RICH. ^ 379 

frail sister of the unhappy Essex before her fault 
was in some degree repaired in the eye of the world, 
by a marriage with Lord Mountjoy, who, on her 
divorce being pronounced, made her his wife. 

They were married at Wanstead, in Essex, 
Dec. 26th, 1605, the ceremony being performed by 
his chaplain, WiUiam Laud, afterwards Archbishop 
of Canterbury — ^a piece of submission on the part of 
that prelate of which he subsequently repented 
with great earnestness; but which exposed him to 
the just censure of the severe. 

Mountjoy, now Earl of Devonshire, never knew 
an hour's content from this moment ; his pride and 
his conscience could not be reconciled to the blot 
which had thus been cast on his escutcheon ; as 
his secretary, Fynes Moryson, expresses it, " greif for 
unsuccessful love brought him to his last end," for 
he died, after nine days of fever, in great pain both 
of body and mind, leaving his 

" Fair and fatal enemy '* 

a fortune of fifteen hundred a year, and eternal 
regret. 



MAGDALEN HERBERT, 

MOTHER OF THE POET, GEORGE HERBERT. 



The poet — whose pious and excellent spiritual 
songs have retained their popularity even to our 
days, notwithstanding the quaint conceits with 
which the sense is occasionally disfigured — owed, as 
is frequently the case, much that was valuable in 
his character to the care, the precepts, and the 
example of his mother, who was the youngest 
daughter of Sir Richard, and sister to Sir Francis 
Newport, of High Arkall, in Shropshire — a family 
remarkable for their loyalty, and who, as Walton 
observes, for that cause "have sujffered much in 
their estates, and seen the ruin of that excellent 
structure, where their ancestors have long lived, 
and been memorable for their hospitality." 

Magdalen was the mother of seven sons and 
three daughters, which she was in the habit of 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 381 

saying, " was Job's nmnber, and Job's distribu- 
tion." For all these blessings she was grateftd to 
Providence, and also " that they were neither defec- 
tive in their shapes nor in their reason; and very 
often," says her biographer, "would she reprove 
them that they did not praise God for so great a 
blessing." 

To educate and watch over these children was 
the chief care of the Lady Magdalen, who became 
early a widow, and imder her eye George and two 
of his brothers were instructed by an able tutor, 
her chaplain, till, after being at Westminster school, 
George was transferred to Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, about 1608, where his mother's watchful 
care followed his progress in learning, never weary- 
ing of her charge, and ceaselessly anxious that the 
seeds of virtue and piety which she saw vrithin him 
should bring forth good fruit. 

When this, her fifth son, was about sixteen, she 
remarried ; her choice was the brother and heir of 
the Earl of Danby, whose zeal in favour of her 
children was not exceeded by her ovni. During 
her widowhood, when she had placed several of her 
sons at Oxford, in order to minister to the comfort 
and advantage both of their bodies and minds, she 
resided herself on the spot, that she might always 
be ready, by her tenderness, her advice, and caution, 
to direct and support them, and to prevent their 
faUing into the errors so common to the age. She 



882 em:inent englishwomen. 

was accustomed to say, that " as our bodies take a 
nourishment suitable to the meat on which we 
feed, so our souls do so insensibly take in vice by 
the example or conversation with wicked com- 
pany." Her maxim was, that " ignorance of vice 
was the best preservative of virtue, and that the 
very knowledge of wickedness was as tinder to 
inflame and kindle sin, and to keep it burning." 
An opinion, if agreed to, seldom acted upon in 
the present day, when it would seem strange to 
the noble mothers of the youths at our public 
schools and universities, to find themselves called 
upon to reside at Eton, Oxford, or Cambridge, in 
order to keep a vigilant look out on the escapades 
of their sons. It was otherwise with the Lady 
Magdalen, of whom her eulogist, Walton, records, 
that, during the four years she resided at Oxford, 
" her great and harmless wit, her cheerful gravity, 
and her obUging behaviour, gained her an acquaint- 
ance and friendship with most men of any eminent 
worth and learning that were at that time in or 
near the university, and particularly with the poet, 
Donne, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's ; and he, at 
his leaving Oxford, writ and left there, in verse, a 
character of her beauties, corporeal and intellectual. 
Of the first, he exclaims : — 



" No spring nor summer beauty has such grace 
As I have seen in an autumnal face," 



, MAGDALEN HERBERT. 388 

Gf the latter, he says :-^ 

" In all her words, to every hearer fit, 
You may at revels or at council sit." 

Donne celebrates her under the name of "The 
Autumnal beauty " in several of his poems. Their 
friendship was firm and attached; and it appears 
that she afforded him substantial proofs of her 
regard in assisting his necessities at a time when a 
sick wife and seven children were burthens more 
than he well knew how to support. 

It is difficult entirely to understand, or altoge- 
ther to sympathise with, the distresses of Dr. 
Donne, when we find that he was patronised and 
substantially reheved by so many different persons 
of wealth and learning, who appreciated his merit 
and pitied his misfortunes. 

The deUcacy of his conscience appears to have 
stood in the way of his preferment more than once; 
but it was a singular sort of feeUng that could 
make him reject a certain source of independ- 
ence to remain a pensioner upon the bounty of 
others. There is something at first sight of roman- 
tic heroism in his refusing to enter holy orders, 
merely because the doing so presented him the 
means of hving; but it might have been better and 
more reasonable had he accepted the noble offers 
made him, and at that very time devoted his mind, 
as he eventually did, to the duties he was after- 



384 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

wards caUed to fulfil. His faithful and suffering 
wife might have been spared the too frequently 
recurring anxieties and sufferings which caused her 
death before his fortunes altered, when he was 
enabled, too late, to have placed her in a position 
suitable to her birth, and fit to reward her devotion. 

As it was, she had always the mortification of 
being a pensioner on one friend or ^other, yet fre- 
quently found herself and her children in want even 
of the necessaries of life, and, worse than all, her 
husband, whom she adored, was pining with grief 
to behold her privations while he was helpless to 
relieve them. 

How mournful are the expressions he utters in 
some of his letters ! — 

" It is now spring, and aU the pleasures of it 
displease me; every other tree blossoms, and I 
wither:* I grow older, and not better: my 
strength diminishes, and my load grows heavier; 
and yet I would fain do or be something ; but that 
I cannot tell what is no wonder in this time of my 
sadness ; for to choose is to do : but to be no part 
of any body is to be nothing, and so I am, and 
shall so judge myself unless I could be so incorpo- 

• The thought here is like that beautiliil one of Surrey's :— 

** And thus I see amidst these pleasant things 
All care decay, and yet my sorrow springs." 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 385 

rated into a part of the world as by business to 
contribute some sustentation to the whole/' 

The following singular epistle is written to the 
Lady Magdalen Herbert, of St. Mary Magdalen; 
and has all the quaintness of the usual style of 
Donne. 

" Madam, 
" Your favours to me are everywhere : I use them 
and have them. I enjoy them at London and leave 
them there, and yet find them at Micham.* Such 
riddles as these become things inexpressible, and 
such is your goodness. I was almost sorry to find 
your servant here to-day, because I was loth to 
have any witness of my not coming home last night, 
and indeed of my coming this morning. But my 
not coming was excusable because earnest business 
detained me, and my coming this day is by the 
example of your St. Mary Magdalen, who rose 
early upon Sunday to seek that which she loved 
most, and so did I. And from her and myself I 
return such thanks as are due to one to whom we 
owe all the good opinion that they whom we need 
most, have of us. By this messenger and on this 
good day I commit the enclosed holy hymns and 
sonnets (which for the matter, not the workman- 
ship, have escaped the fire,) to your judgment and 
to your protection too, if you think them worthy 

* Where Donne resided with his family. 
VOL. I. CO 



386 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

of it : and I have appointed this enclosed sonnet to 
usher them to your happy hand. 

Your unworthiest servant 

Unless your accepting him to be so 
have mended him, 

J. DONNE. 

" Micham, My llt/i, 1607." 



" These hymns," observes their biographer, " are 
lost to us ; but, doubtless, they are such as tAey two 
now sing in heaven." This is, indeed, in axjcord- 
ance with the poet's notion, that 

" AU we know of those above 

Is that they smg and that they love." 

If the hymns were as crabbed as the sonnet 
which introduced them to his learned and amiable 
friend, they could give, it must be confessed, but a 
poor specimen of the poetry of the spheres. 

Twenty years after this letter is dated, the then 
Dean of St. Paul's, with many tears, preached the 
funeral sermon of this excellent woman, in the 
parish church of Chelsea, where her ashes he.* 



* Grainger speaks of a curious picture of Dr. Donne, as mys- 
terious as his verses and his thoughts. It existed at Lincoln's 
Inn, and is described by Dr. John Barwick, as " all enveloped 
with a darkish shadow, his face and features hardly discernible, 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 387 

The first year of his going to Cambridge, George 
Herbert wrote to his mother, sending her some 
verses as a New- Year's gift, which have far more 
poetical merit, although the poet was then very 
young, than any of the admired sonnets of Donne. 
He writes : — 

" But I fear the heat of my late ague hath dried 
up those springs by which, scholars say, the Muses 
used to take up their habitations. However, I need 
not their help to reprove the vanity of those many 

with this ejaculation and wish thereon — * DoiAine illumina tene- 
bras meas ;'" " and," adds the historian, " this wish was after- 
wards accomplished, when, at the persuasion of King James, he 
entered into holy orders." 

It is seldom we meet with any poem of Donne's which gives 
much idea of the talent he was thought to possess at the period he 
wrote. Satire, as Dryden has said, was his forte, whose keen 
and forcible expression Pope appreciated, and happily imitated. 
Dryden pronounces that he had a prodigious richness of fancy, 
but his thoughts were much debased by his versification. Drum- 
mond, the famous Scotch poet, affirmed to Ben Jonson, that he 
wrote his best pieces before he was twenty-five years of age. 
Dr. Brown has said of him — 

" 'Twas then plain Donne in honest vengeance rose, 
His wit harmonious, but his rhyme was prose." 

He is more known as a poet than a divine, though, in the latter 
character, he had great merit ; his sermons, however, suited his 
own, better than later times. He was singularly eccentric 
throughout his life; and, some time before his death, when he was 
emaciated with study and sickness, he caused himself to be wrap- 
ped up in a sheet, which was gathered over his head in the maimer 
of a shroud, and, having closed his eyes, he had his portrait taken 
which was kept by his bed-side as long as he lived, to remind him 
of mortality. The effigy on his monument in St. Paul's Church, 
was done after this portrait. He died, March 31, 1631. — See 
Dugdale.- 

C C 2 



388 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

love poems that are daily writ and consecrated 
to Venus; nor to bewail that so few are writ 
that look towards God and Heaven. For my own 
part, my meaning, dear mother, is, in these sonnets, 
to declare my resolution to be, that my poor abi- 
lities in poetry shall be all and ever consecrated to 
God's glory; and I beg you to receive this as 
one testimony : 

" My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee 
Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did bum 

Besides their other flames ? Doth poetry 
Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? 
Why are not sonnets made of thee, and lays 

Upon thine altar burnt ? Cannot thy love 

Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise 
As well as any she ? — cannot thy Dove 
Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight ? 

Or, since thy ways are deep and still the same, 

Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name ? 
Why doth that fire, which, by thy power and might, 

Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose 

Than that — which one day worms may chance refiise ! 
Sure, Lord, there is enough in thee to dry 

Oceans ofink{!) for as the deluge did 

Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty : 
Each cloud distils thy praise, and doth forbid 
Poets to turn it to another use. 

Roses and lilies speak of thee : to make 

A pair of cheeks of them is thy abuse, 
Why should I women's eyes for crystal take ? 
Such poor invention burns in their low mind 

Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go 
To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow" 
♦ • « ♦ • 

G. H. 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 389 

Herbert attracted the particular notice of the 
schoolmaster King, when, on his frequent visits 
to Cambridge, from Royston and Nfewioiarket, he 
inflicted his tediousness on the learned there. As 
orator, Herbert had many opportunities of compli- 
menting his pedantic master ; and did so with so 
much grace, as to cause the King to remark to 
his kinsman, the Earl of Pembroke, " that he found 
the orator's learning and wisdom much above his 
age and wit." 

Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, at this time 
formed a strict friendship with the son of Mag- 
dalen Herbert, much to her delight ; and so highly 
did he value his judgment, that, in a debate on 
predestination and sanctity of life which occurred 
between them, the orator, having sent the bishop 
certain aphorisms, written in very choice Greek, 
the prelate, ever after, kept the precious paper in 
his bosom, occasionally showing it to scholars, both 
of this and foreign nations ; but, says Walton, " did 
always retmn it back to the place where he first 
lodged it, and continued it so near his heart till the 
last day of his life." 

Donne and Sir Henry Wotton were his great 
friends, as well as his mother's; and he does not 
appear wanting in some of the courtly fancies which 
distinguished those persons : for instance, his fond- 
ness for dress was extreme — a passion scarcely 



390 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

reconcileable to the religious and ascetic notions 
which he frequently expressed. That he was a 
courtier is clear, by his continually following the 
King, and absenting himself from Cambridge, except 
when his patron, James, was there. Perhaps, his 
quick-sighted mother was aware of certain weak- 
nesses in his character, which, she feared, might not 
tend to good if encouraged, as she always expressed 
great disinclination to his design of leaving the 
University altogether — as he thought study injured 
his health — and devoting his time to travel, for 
which he had a great desire. His expression was, 
that " he had too thoughtful a wit ; a wit, like 
a penknife in too narrow a sheath, too sharp for 
his body." 

But the opposition of his mother to this wish 
decided him to abandon it, as he was accustomed 
to submit to her wisdom in all things. He could 
not, however, repress some repinings at being pre- 
vented from following the bias to which his heart 
tended ; and in these lines, called " Affliction," he 
thus reflects on the destiny marked out for him by 
Providence : 

" Whereas my birth and spirit rather took 

The way that takes the town, 
Thou didst betray me to a ling'ring book, 

And wrap me in a gown. 
I was entangled in a world of strife 
Before I had the power to change my life. 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 391 

" Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise, 

Not simp 'ring all mine age : 
Thou often didst with academic praise 

Melt and dissolve my rage : 
I took the sweetened pOl, till I came where 
I could not go away, nor persevere. 



' Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me 

None of my books will show. 
I read, I sigh, and wish I were a tree ; 

For then, sure, I should grow 
To fruit or shade, at least, some bird would trust 
Her household with me, and I would be just. 

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek, 

In weakness must be stout. 
Well, I wiU change my service, and go seek 

Some other master out. 
Ah, my dear God ! — though I am clean forgot, 
Let me not love thee— if I love thee not!" 



The following letter to Mrs. Herbert is from Dr. 
Donne, her own and her son's friend, who, know- 
ing her dislike to a Court life, has tact enough 
to abuse it : — 

"to the worthiest lady, MRS. MAGDALEN HERBERT. 

" Madam, — 

" As we must die before we haye full glory and 
happiness, so, before I can have this degree of it as 
to see you by a letter, I must almost die ; that is, 
come to London — ^to plaguy London — a place full 



392 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

of danger, and vanity, and vice, though the Court 
be gone. And such it will be till your return 
redeem it. Not that the greatest virtue in the 
world, which is you, can be such a marshal as to 
defeat or disperse all the vice of this place ; but, as 
higher bodies remove, or contract themselves, when 
better come, so at your return we shall have one 
door open to innocence. Yet, madam, you are not 
smh an Ireland as produceth neither ill nor good : 
no spiders, no nightingales : which is a rare degree 
of perfection. But you have found and practised 
that experiment, that even nature, out of her detest- 
ing of emptiness, if we will make that our work to 
remove bad will fill us with good things. To 
abstain from it was, therefore, but the childhood 
and minority of your soul, which had been long 
exercised since, in your manlier, active part, of doing 
good. Of which, since I have been a witness and 
subject, not to tell you sometimes that by your 
influence and example I have attained to such a 
step of goodness as to be thankftd, were both to 
accuse your power and judgment of impotency and 
infirmity. 

" Your ladyship's, in all services, 

"John Donne.'' 



George Herbert would have been, however, easily 
persuaded to throw by his book, and remove alto- 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 393 

gether to Court ; but for the loss of several of his 
friends, from whom he looked for preferment; and the 
death of King James himself put an end to all his 
expectations. He accordingly retired to a solitary 
retreat in Kent, where he entirely shut himself up, 
and gave way to melancholy reflection, till his health 
began to sufier from such a course of life, more 
than by the studies to which he attributed his 
ailments. His mother pressed him to enter holy 
orders, a consummation which she devoutly wished ; 
but he still vacillated, and the pleasures of a life at 
Court still held out attractions to him, in spite of 
her representations: his worldly friends ridiculed 
the idea of his devoting his energies and talents to 
the service of the Church, bidding him consider that 
such a state was beneath his high birth ; but the 
arguments of the Lady Magdalen had begun to 
move him, and furnished him with this answer, 
worthy to be recorded : 

" It hath been formerly judged that the domestic 
servants of the King of Heaven should be of the 
noblest families on earth ; and, though the iniquity 
of late times have made clergymen meanly valued, 
and the sacred name of priest contemptible, yet I 
will labour to make it honourable, by consecrating 
all my learning, and all my poor abilities, to ad- 
vance the glory of that God that gave them ; know- 
ing that I can never do too much for him that hath 



394 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

done so much for me, as to make me a Christian. 
And I will labour to be like my Saviour, by making 
humiUty lovely in the eyes of all men, and by 
following the merciful and meek example of my 
the dear Jesus." 

The result of this was, that he crowned his 
mother's hopes, and was made a deacon ; and, in 
the year 1626, a prebend of Layton Ecclesia, in 
diocese of Lincoln. 

This village is near Spalden, in Huntiugdonshire ; 
and, at the time George Herbert was appointed to 
the living, the church was in a most dilapidated 
condition. The great object of his ambition was to 
re-edify it ; and he accordingly exerted all his 
energies for that object. Knowing what an ex- 
pensive taste is that of building, his mother, when 
she heard of his intention, took the alarm, and sent 
for him in all haste to Chelsea, where she then 
Uved, and remonstrated with him thus ; 

" George, I sent for you to persuade you to 
commit simony, by giving your patron as good a 
gift as he has given you ; namely, that you give 
him back his prebend, for it is not for your weak 
body and empty purse, to undertake to build 
churches." 

The son requested a short time to consider of his 
answer; and, returning to her, said, after request- 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 395 

ing and receiving her blessing, that he had further 
to beg of her that " she would at the age of thirty- 
three years allow him to become an undutiful son, 
for he had made a vow to God, that, if he were 
able, he would rebuild that church/' 

He used so many arguments, that he at length 
entirely won her to his side, and she presently con- 
sented to assist him in his project, and also under- 
took to soUcit William, Earl of Pembroke, to do the 
same, who subscribed at first fifty pounds, but, 
urged by an eloquent and witty letter from the 
prebend, he afterwards added fifty more. Many 
more friends came to his aid, and he found him- 
self possessed of a sufficient sum for his purpose. 
The works went on imder his direction, and he 
took the utmost interest in their completion : Wal- 
ton thus describes the church : — 

" He made it so much his whole business, 
that he became restless till he saw it finished as it 
now stands ; being, for the workmanship, a costly 
Mosaic, for the form an exact cross, and for the 
decency and beauty, I am assured, it is the most 
remarkable parish church that this nation afibrds. 
He lived to see it so wainscoted as to be exceeded 
by none ; and, by his order, the reading-pew and 
pulpit were a little distant from each other, and 
both of an equal height ; for he would often 
say, ' They should neither have a precedency or 



396 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

priority of the other ; but that prayer and preach- 
ing, being equally useful, might agree hke brethren, 
and have an equal honour and estimation.' " 

When his estimable mother was on a bed of sick- 
ness, which was nearly her last, her son wrote her 
the following admirable though quaint letter, which, 
by its tenderness and piety, was calculated to give 
her all the comfort which he proposed : 

" Madam, 

" At my last parting from you, I was the better 
content, because I was in hope I should carry all 
sickness out of your family; but, since 1 know I 
did not, and that your share continues, or rather 
increaseth, I wish earnestly that I were again with 
you, and would quickly make good my wish, but 
that my employment doth fix me here. 

" In the meantime I beseech you to be cheerful, 
and comfort yourself in the God of all comfort, who 
is not willing to behold any sorrow but for sin. 
What hath affliction grievous in it more than for a 
moment? or why should our afflictions here have 
so much power or boldness as to oppose the hope 
of our joys hereafter ? Madam, as the earth is but 
a point in respect of the heavens, so are earthly 
troubles compared to heavenly joys; therefore, if 
either age or sickness lead you to those joys, con- 
sider what advantage you have over youth and 
health, who are now so near those true comforts. 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 397 

** Your last letter gave me earthly preferment, 
and I hope kept heavenly for yourself, but would 
you divide and choose too? Our college customs 
allow not that, and I should account myself most 
happy if I might change with you ; for I have 
always observed the thread of life to be, like other 
threads or skeins of silk, full of snarls and incum- 
brances. Happy is he whose bottom is wound up, 
and laid ready for work in the New Jerusalem ! 

" For myself, dear mother, I always feared sick- 
ness worse than death, because sickness hath made 
me unable to perform those offices for which I came 
into the world, and must yet be kept in it : but y6u 
are freed from that fear, who have already abun- 
dantly discharged that part, having both ordered 
your family, and so brought up your children, that 
they have attained to the years of discretion and 
competent maintenance. So that now, if they do 
not well, the fault cannot be charged on you, whose 
example and care of them will justify you both to 
the world and your own conscience : insomuch that 
whether you turn your thoughts on the life past, or 
on the joys that are to come, you have strong pre- 
servatives against all disquiet. And for temporal 
afflictions, I beseech you consider, all that can 
happen to you are either afflictions of estate or 
body or mind. 

" For those of estate, of what poor regard ought 
they to be ! since, if we had riches, we are com- 



398 em!inent englishwomen. 

maiided to give them away ; so that the best use of 
them is, having, not to have them. 

" But, perhaps, being above the common people, 
our credit and estimation calls on us to Uve in a 
more splendid fashion : but, oh Grod ! how easily is 
that answered, when we consider that the blessings 
in the holy Scripture are never given to the rich 
but to the poor ! I never find ' Blessed be the rich," 
or ' Blessed be the noble ;' but ' Blessed be the 
meek, and blessed be the poor — ^and blessed be 
the mourners, for they shall be comforted': and 
yet, O Grod ! must carry themselves so, as if they 
n5t only not desired, but even feared to be 
blessed. * * 

" Above all, if any care of future things molest 
you, remember those admirable words of the 
Psalmist : — ' Cast thy care on the Lord, and he 
shall nourish thee.' * * 

" God is at hand to deliver us from all or in all. 
Dear Madam, pardon my boldness, and accept the 
good meaning of 

Your most obedient son, 

George Herbert. 

" Trin, Coll May 25, 1622." 



This good mother, for whom her worthy son had 
so great a respect, died in 1627, before George 
Herbert's marriage, which took place in conse- 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 399 

quence of his removing for his health, to Dantsey, 
in Wilts., which belonged to his father-inJaw's 
brother. Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, with whom 
he was a great favourite; where he met with a 
yomig lady, one of nine daughters of Mr. Danvers, 
of Sainton, in the same county, and with an im- 
petuosity but little in accord with the prudent cau- 
tion of his mother, the "wooing and marrying 
and a'," was settled in three days after their first 
interview. 

Whether there was not something of enthusiasm 
in his character, almost amounting, at times, to in- 
sanity, this, and some other actions of his life, may 
render a question; and probably the anxious care of 
his mother, in advising him, upon all occasions, may 
be traced to this source. For instance, when, after 
a struggle with his conscience, conunon in those 
days, however imusual now, he accepted, by the 
persuasions of Archbishop Laud, of the living of 
Bemerton, near Salisbury, and was left, as the 
custom was, in the church alone, to toll the bell; 
he fell into a sort of trance on the pavement before 
the altar, and imagiaed that a change was wrought 
in his soul from that time. 

It seemed to have cost him some struggles to 
" doff his sword and silk clothes" for a canonical 
habit; but, having done so, he returned to his 
meek wife — a perfect pattern of a country clergy- 
man's helpmate — and exhorted her, in future, to be. 



400 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

like himself, humble-minded ; for though he, in the 
words of Fox — ■ 

*' Had tasted extremes both of pleasure and pain, 
And felt but too ready to taste them again ;" 

yet he exclaimed, in one of his spiritual songs, 

" That, through these labyrinths, not my groveling wit 
But thy sUk twist, let down from heaven to me, 
Did both conduct, and teach me, how by it 
To climb to thee." 

He made a most exemplary clergyman, and his con- . 
duct was such as would have delighted his mother's 
heart, and the virtues of the partner whom he had 
so hastily chosen must also have contented her. 

His chief recreation was in music ; and, in the 
beautiful cathedral of Salisbury, twice every week 
did he repair to listen to such strains as, he declared, 
" so elevated his soul that it was his heaven upon 
earth." An anecdote is related of this kind but 
somewhat eccentric minister, that, on one occasion, 
as he was walking to Salisbury, "he saw a poor 
man with a poorer horse, that was fallen under his 
load ; they were both in distress and needed present 
help, which Mr. Herbert perceiving, put off his ca- 
nonical coat and helped the poor man to unload, 
and after to load his horse. ' The poor man blessed 
him for it, and he blessed the poor man ; and was 
so like the good Samaritan, that he gave him money 
to refresh both himself and his horse, telling him, 
" that if he loved himself he should be merciful to 
his beast." 



MAGDALEN HERBERT. 401 

When he reached Salisbury the economy of his 
dress was considerably impaired by his exertions, 
which occasioned many remarks from his musical 
companions, and some of them reproved him for 
a condescension beneath his dignity; his reply 
was: — 

" That the thought of what he had done would 
prove music to him at midnight; and that the 
omission of it would have upbraided and made ' 
discord in his conscience, whensoever he should 
pass by that place. For," said he, " if I be bound 
to pray for all that be in distress, I am sure that 
I am bound, so far as is in my power, to practise 
what I pray for. And though I do not wish for 
the like occasion every day, yet, let me tell you, 
I would not willingly pass one day of my life 
without comforting a sad soul, or showing mercy ; 
and I praise God for this opportunity. And now 
let us tune our instruments." 

About a month before his death, a clerical friend 
visiting him, he desired him to pray with him ; 
when the other having enquired what prayers he 
chose, Herbert rephecf : 

" O sir, the prayers of my mother, the Church 
of England, — no other prayers are equal to them." 

He thus gave evidence that to the last he 
retained that veneration for his mother, whom he 

VOL. I. D D 



402 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

associated with the Church, which her care of him 
so* well deserved ; and his excellence and piety, 
so remarkable and so worthy of praise, may justly 
be referred, as to their original cause, to the virtues 
and estimable quaUties of Magdalen Herbert. 



■ All must to their cold graves : 

Only the actions of the just 

Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust." 




'isiAMcnjs ;s. 



chrLT-fl [',^'r^A^.^S■\A 



FRANCES HOWARD, 
DUCHESS OE RICHMOND. 



L(>NO' after the grave had closed over the sorrows 
of the ill-fated Arabella Stuart, her sorrowing 
widower, Seymour, was induced to take a second 
wife, and in her society endeavour to forget the sad 
tragedy in which he had been an actor. What 
decided him to seek the hand of the da.ughter of 
Viscomit Howard, of Bindon, second son of the 
Duke of Norfolk, is not recorded; but she does 
not seem to have been remarkable for aiiy qualities 
whic^-made her worthy to replace the royal wife of 
Hertford, except her good-nature made up for the 
vanity and folly for which she is eminently con- 
spicuous. Pity, perhaps, and a certain sjrmpathy 
for a young and lovely creature, who had lost two 
near relatives* on the scaflfold, caused the melancholy 
Seymour to choose her for his bride. 

Some strange circumstances of her very early life 
had made her the wife of a person in a condition of 

* Her two grandfatliers, the Dukes of Norfolk and Buckingliam. 



404 EMINENT ENGLISHWOMEN. 

life immeasurably beneath her own, for she had 
married one Prannell, the son of a wealthy vintner 
of London. It is not known whether their miion 
was a stolen one, or whether the riches of the 
husband had induced her family to consent to such 
a degradation of their high blood ; but at all events 
Prannell died very soon after the event, and left the 
lovely Frances free to flirt and choose as her fancy 
dictated. 

She did not seem backward in the accomphsh- 
ment of setting forth her own charms to advantage, 
and soon drew round her a crowd of adorers, 

" Who felt or feign'd a flame." 

" Among the rest " was Sir George Rodney, 
whom she at first encouraged, until the unfortunate 
gentleman had deceived himself into a hope that he 
was preferred to all others ; but while he was thus 
indulging in a vain dream, it was suddenly broken 
with violence by the news of his false fair one's 
intended marriage with a newer and more noble 
suitor, the Earl of Hertford. 

" Oh ! when he heard that her plighted word 

His false one meant to break, 
The youth grew sad, and the youth grew mad, 

And his sword he sprang to take ; 
He set the point against his side, 

The hilt against the floor, 
I wot he made a wound so wide 

He never a word spake more." 



DUCHESS OF RICHMOND. 405 

This, in fact, is the sad history of this victim of 

" A fair, false woman." 

Before he died, he indited some lines, which, in 
the true fashion of chivalry, he wrote in his own 
blood : their merit would not have saved him with 
a critically poetical mistress ; but, as Frances was 
only vain and heartless, she had, probably, often 
pretended to be delighted with similar effusions in 
praise of her beauty. 

Sir George was found dead in a room in an inn 
at Amesbury, in Wiltshire, whence he had watched 
the bridal procession of the earl and countess. 

Hertford really liked his frivolous and beautiful 
wife, and, though Arabella evidently still lived in his 
heart, and he delighted to keep up her memory by 
calling one of his cluldren by the name he loved 
best, yet he does not seem to have repented of his 
marriage. 

Her pride of birth was great, and she was 
very fond of boasting of her pedigree, and of the 
two dukes, her grandfathers; but he looked on 
this only as a pardonable weakness, and would 
plajrfully reprove her by exclaiming, when she 
indulged in these flights in his hearing, " Frank, 
Frank ! how long is it since you were married to 
Prannell?" which always covered her with confu- 
sion, and checked her for a time. 

At his death the Earl left her five thousand pounds 
a-year, and she was now a widow, with the attrac- 




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